|Size||19 Players (Large)|
|Start Date||August 09, 2009|
|Winning Faction||Mafia (Baddies)|
|First to Die||Dawg|
|Last Remaining||SparrowHawk, IDoNotExist|
Multimafia was a game designed and hosted by Unreality based on the Mafia series of games, this one being considered Mafia 8 and the final in the series, not counting the prequel Medieval Mafia Prequel
It began on August 09, 2009 and ended in a Mafia (Baddies) win in N5 (August 20th).
Game Mechanics Edit
- Days and Nights end at 9 PM EST
- Send all PMs to both Frost and Unreality
- No illegal BTSC, ghostposting, etc
- Get your night PMs as early as possible so the night post is ready as early as possible (though if it's ready earlier, it won't be put up til 9)
- The setting of this game is cross-continental; each day/night duo will be in a different location in the Content Phoenix universe!
- Day posts will be blurbesque, Night posts will be reminiscent of the numeral-ed ones thumbsup.gif
- In the event of a tie lynch, all lynchees die
- Have fun! w00t w00t biggrin.gif
A few clarifications discovered in our discussions:
- The Mafia RID cannot be saved against, by either the Doctor or Savior. It will go through even if the target is being saved by one of those roles (unless of course the RID is wrong tongue.gif).
- The Avenger's kill can be saved against, by both the Doctor and Savior.
- If the Avenger happens to follow the same target as the RID, then the Avenger will kill the Musclehead (unless of course the Musclehead is in the safehouse).
- Also, scenarios will be maximized for their kills. I.e., if the Mafia kill Unreality, but Avenger is avenging Unreality, and the Janitor kills the Avenger, then the Mafia kill Unreality, the Avenger kills the hitman, and THEN the janitor kills the Avenger. Woo, extreme death!
Each night, the Mafia pick one Mafioso to be the "hitman" to carry out their nightkill. They can also pick one among them to hide in the Mafia safehouse (and thus be unfindable for all night actions except for the Janitor, who has the keys to everything). The hiding Mafioso cannot be the hitman, so if it's down to one Mafioso, they have to make a choice between hiding and killing. The hider can still use their personal ability however
- The Blackmailer - each night, can use extortion to learn someone's role. The person is of course aware that their role was blackmailed out of them
- The Musclehead - each night, can hunt someone down and stop them from comlpeting their night activities. Alternatively, the Musclehead can choose to instead make a Role+Identity matchup to attempt a kill. They can only do this if they're not also the hitman for that night. If the Musclehead succeeds, the victim dies. If the Musclehead fails, the would-be victim learns that they were an RID target, and they also learn what role the Musclehead thought they were. The Musclehead cannot use the RID on a victim of the Blackmailer as they like to keep their "clients" separate
- Only successful RID kills will go into the night post
- Blocks won't be shown in the night posts - they are as if the action didn't happen (because it didn't)
- The Trickster - each night, can set someone up with the following system: "PLAYER appears as ROLE". Any spying role that spies PLAYER receives ROLE as the feedback. Thus the Trickster could make themselves seem innocent, or they could frame an innocent into seeming bad
The Mafia wins by being the last faction standing!
Quarky Agents 
The Quarky Agents start without BTSC, however they can obtain BTSC during the game by "meeting up". If two QAs meet up, they get BTSC, and if one of those QAs later meets up with another QA (or all three meet up at once), then all three have just achieved full BTSC. There are three ways that QAs can meet up:
- two or three QAs target the same person at night
- one QA targets another QA, two QAs target each other, two QAs both target a third QA, one QA targets a QA who targets the other QA, or two QAs target each other and the third QA targets one of them
- two or three QAs end up voting for the same person at the end of the day
So, each night, each QA targets someone. It takes the following majorities for the kill to be successful:
No kill occurs if the target is another QA (instead, they meet up). Each QA also has a personal ability:
Quarky Agent roles:
- Master of Malice - immune to HOSTILE actions by the Janitor and Blackmailer
- Master of Espionage - can spy on one person every night. Gets told "Innocent" or "baddie". Influence-able by the Trickster of course
- Master of Subterfuge - if the MoS is lynched while 1 or more living QAs are in communication with the MoS, the MoS escapes the lynching
The QAs win by killing the Ninja! If they fail at this, a secondary wincon is activated, which is to lynch a specific target. The remaining QAs at this point immediately gain BTSC and the hosts Frost & Unreality will select 3 living Innocents that they believe are the fairest. The list will be presented to the QAs, and they will pick their lynch target. The QAs will have two days to get this person lynched starting from the next most recent day after the Ninja dies. If they fail and this person is still standing after the lynch on the QAs' second day, the QAs are outed and lynched alongside the actual lynch victim
Grim Reaper 
The Grim Reaper is a solo spectre of darkness, a shadowy wraith that kills on even nights. The GR is invincible (to death only) on the first night and first day since they are still coagulating from the darkness and are partially immortal. Every odd night, the GR can use their "death scent" ability... this involves "sniffing" a player. When that player dies, the GR will learn that player's role plus who they've acted on during the game (if another baddie, only deals with the personal ability of the role, not factionwide kill choices and things)
The GR wins by killing the Ninja. If the GR fails, the GR is consumed by a flare of intense flames and dies
INNOCENTS  You know their wincon is to kill off all the baddies ;D
- The Mayor - once ever, can PM the hosts during the day to cancel a lynch. They can include a conditional of the form "cancel the lynch IF 'X' IS THE LYNCHEE" so the lynch-stopper is not used if the votes change around after they send their PM and the Mayor doesn't get on in time to uncancel it
- Also, twice ever, the Mayor can pick someone during the day to redirect their vote to the Mayor's lynch target (effectively negating that person's vote and increasing the Mayor's vote weight by 1). The Mayor can use both redirects in a single day if he/she wishes
- Each night, the Mayor can PM the hosts with a Town Bulletin Message which the hosts will put into the night post
- The Ninja - a stealthy warrior from distant lands that kills by night (but of course may choose to abstain from such unzenly acts). Has BTSC with their Defender
- The Defender - a burly, quick-thinking tactical bodyguard assigned to their BTSC partner, the Ninja. They have been through many wars together and the Defender has an innate sense of when the Ninja is in danger. While the Defender is alive, the Ninja cannot die at night (though both are vulnerable by day of course). Has BTSC with the Ninja
- The Spy - a sneaky little sleuth who can discern one person's role per night
- The Doctor - this bored paramedic is on the "night shift". Their job is about to get a lot more interesting... [can save self, but never the same person twice in a row]
- The Avenger - follows someone throughout the night. If the Avenger's target is killed, the Avenger kills the killer
- The Sentinel - observes the actions of their vigil target for one night. The Sentinel sees who the target acts upon and who acts upon the target
- The Janitor - a resourceful maintenance man with the keys to everything (including the Mafia safehouse). Each day, the hosts roll a 6-sided dice and PM the Janitor with the result sometime during the day or right around the day post at the latest. That night, the Janitor chooses who to use this toss-up ability on (if there is a target). Here are the abilities:
- (1) Kill
- (2) Save
- (3) Block [doesn't go into night post]
- (4) Spy
- (5) Dance
- (6) Choose from the first five
- The Inspector - every odd night, the Inspector can track down a baddie who was been causing turmoil in the streets. The Inspector can go all private-eye on any of the baddies except the Grim Reaper (since the Grim Reaper is unhuntable by modern detective methods) and learn their identity. The Inspector must designate the exact baddie role (such as Trickster or MoM)
- The Atheist - the Atheist is favored by the Host Gods Unreality and Frost. The Atheist cannot be lynched and, on the 3rd day, can convert one more person to atheism. The new atheist, in addition to their previous role, cannot be lynched either. If either atheist is lynched, they get out of the lynching via divine intervention (ironic, lol)
- The Savior - each night, can choose one ROLE (not PLAYER) to save that night. The Savior can only save each role once ever
- The Chameleon - each night, the Chameleon says "I want to use A's role on B" where A and B are different players that are both still alive. Once the Chameleon uses A's role, he/she can't use A again (though A can be 'B' in a later using of the ability). For some roles, the ability is a little different to fit the Chameleon:
|Spoiler for Specifics:|
Host's Summary Edit
Game Idea and Expectations Edit
The ultimate conglomeration of Mafias I, II, III, IV, V and VI has arrived... the greatest roles, the most influential characters and the most powerful enemies have coincided in one game, one final game, to determine the epic ending fate of the entire 'Content Phoenix' universe and its Host Gods, Unreality and Frost.
This universe, spawned in Mafia I with Unreality's Awesomeville, has extended to cover a vast landscape... to the Southward blazing deserts, in which Oasis sits like a beacon, to the capital city Denbrain to the east... to the icy hamlet of Pengville far in the north... all of these places are sites of many stories and many conflicts. Awesomeville, most of all, has been the site of four major clashes... I, II, IV and IIredux have decided the final fate of Awesomeville as a win for the Innocents. But the rest of the Content Phoenix universe still wobbles at the tip of the spear. Multimafia, aka Mafia VIII, is the ultimate conclusion to this epic planet's war with crime and innocence. [A note on numerals: Medieval Mafia will be Mafia IX, taking place in this universe's distant past. Mafia VII, being in a remote mountain village near Denbrain, is pretty unaffected by these events]
Winning Faction Edit
- Sparrowhawk - Trickster
- Surge - Musclehead
- IDNE - Blackmailer
Day and Night Posts Edit
|Night One: Moonlit Sands|
Try to guess which two sections Frost wrote and which were me ;D
A sliver of light shone through the partially open doorway. The door creaking open, a figure appeared in the path of the light, his shadow stretching across the deep hallway. The person stepped inside, slowly closing the door behind him. He glanced around the silent room, stars glimmering through the open windows from outside. A cool breeze blew into the hall, swirling around the person and blowing in their face.
“Shit! Stupid wind! Now I’ve got sand in my eyes…”
He shuffled to the other side of the hall, towards the door. Still partially blinded by the sand, he stumbled over the rug, tripping and smashing his head into the wall. A picture hanging above him fell off its hook from the impact, crashing onto the person’s skull.
“Owwwww…” the person said, getting up, dazedly. “I really need to bring another one with me the next time I invade someone’s house. Why did I have to sign up for this stupid mission, it’s just not worth it. They didn’t even bother to inform each of us where the other agents are.”
Upon saying that, the Quarky Agent opened the door at the end of the hall and quietly snuck into the room. The room was pitch black, and as the QA walked in, he knocked a vase right off of the nearby table, which had been shrouded in darkness. The sound resonated through the house like the howl of a wolf late at night. Panicking, the QA dashed out of the room and back through the hall, once again blocking the stream of light, but this time for only a moment.
Sparrowhawk looked through the bedroom doors, adjusting his eyes to the light. Was there someone there? Nah, they must have run off. Sleepily, sparrowhawk headed back to his big comfortable bed, waving the issue off until tomorrow morning.
The QA, now some distance from the house, refused to ease up on his running. “He must be right behind me…” he puffed on. Far above him, the moon shone bright over the city. The desert winds screamed past his feet as he ran, sand shifting through the barren streets of the mercantile town of Oasis.
Dawg laughed and splashed in the cool night air and the dark liquid of the canal, enjoying the warm desert zephyr that stirred the surface of the water ever so lightly. Oasis took advantage of its watery bounty in the middle of a dry desert, and there were hundreds of canals lacing through the complex cobbled city like the veins and arteries in a massive organic body. There were of course the main thoroughways, packed with merchant boats and canal taxis and private kayaks, even at night when the moon whispered its dominance over the sand. But amid the labyrinthine maze of smaller canals, the wee hours of the night were the perfect time for a spontaneous bath, alone in the purity of the air and water.
Tonight, the water was going to lose some of its celebrated purity.
Dawg heard a splash in the distance, just outside his radius of vision.
"Who's there?" he called expectantly.
"Oh my gawd!" the other person said. "Dawg?"
"Yeah... who is this?" Dawg replied, frowning.
"You don't remember me? I guess it has been a while," the person mused, coming closer. Even three feet away, Dawg didn't recognize them. "What a strange coincidence... I guess my love for midnight baths is shared by-"
The person suddenly quit the garbage and launched into the air, grabbing Dawg's neck on the descent and pushing him into the water.
Dawg screamed (and succeeded in gargling) as well as thrashed (and succeeded in moving limply) as the Mafioso/a held his head underwater grimly. It didn't take long before his movements lost intensity and eventually died entirely - along with Dawg's life. The Mafia hit(wo)man then dove underwater, retrieving a pre-placed "sinker": two bags of rocks connected by a rope with which to weigh a body down to the canal floor. Dawg was fish food.
“Come on, come on…” a QA muttered under his breath. He had been waiting impatiently for over an hour. “He should have come here by now,” he thought to himself. The leaves rustled around him in the wind. The QA picked a fruit off of the tree that he was sitting in, biting into the succulent deliciousness. “Blasted Content Phoenix, they’re always doing so well, while Quarky just drops into the ever deeper bowels of misery. This is our last hope! If we can just capture these towns one at a time, we can rule Content Phoenix ourselves!” As the QA was ranting to himself, another figure hurried past underneath. “Oh shit, there he goes!” The QA attempted to get up from his position to jump down on his target, which he had identified as Social Darwin, but he was too late. He leapt from the tree and crashed face-first into the ground. SD didn’t even bother to turn around to see his attacker; instead he headed off into the night, leaving the QA to sulk beneath the tree.
For being a moderately large urban area, Oasis was pretty quiet at night. Its tall, ornate sandstone buildings held many functions, and the cobbled, sandy streets hosted only bikes and the occasional sand cruiser or dune buggy. A few people walked around, mostly kids from the local university. Crime in Oasis tended to be low and neither were there many pimps, prositutes or hobos.
However, Oasis was not a boring city, by far. Its nightlife thrived in secret grottos at the bottom of canals, or in highrise penthouse roofs, or in massive multideck airships that floated overhead in the dark desert sky.
It was in one such airship that CPB danced away the night.
The Hyperdecker drifted on a quiet breeze, its house music heard faintly on the sandy stretch of desert below. The airship was a few miles out of Oasis, and alone in the night sky tonight.
Three decks ringed its massive, tan-colored blimplike balloon, and each deck was packed with people in all 360 degrees, arms in the air. Various DJ platforms floated around, supported by miniature helium balloon setups and tethered to the main decks. Inside the blimp there were bars and party rooms.
CPB had quite a reputation at these "nightclubs" and was surrounded by a gaggle of guys trying to dance with her. The DJ grinned at her and saluted as his fingers waltzed over an electronic keyboard.
Nobody CPB had met tonight was particularly exciting or interesting... until her eyes met across the dance floor. A cliché, but it happened. She threaded her way out of a gaggle of people toward the bar, her heart thumping to the music. By the time she reached the bar, the mystery man was going... but a quick rotation discovered him again... he was alone on an upper axial deck, leaning on a railing and looking out over the desert. She climbed a rattling metal ladder, pushed under a [SHIPHANDS ONLY - DO NOT ENTER] sign, and stood next to him.
The view was breathtaking. Dunes rolled out to infinity at the distant horizon. It was like they were on the fin of a giant swimming whale, looking out over the sandy ocean floor. It stretched on for thousands of miles, occasionally breaking for sand flats or carved stone canyons.
"Look... to the south," the man grinned. He turned CPB around to face the southern edge of the desert. The dunes were taller down there, rippling into crested waves of hot earth, cooling under the moon in their endless procession to the heart of the Quarky nation.
"It's - it's beautiful," CPB gasped.
"It is my home," the man, right behind her, hissed... and vaulted her over the railing.
CPB screamed as she dropped like a rock, flailing past two dance floors on her one-way trip with the desert.
The Quarky Agent chuckled. One more enemy of his people, thrown to the sands. He turned away from the railing, ready to enjoy some music.
Little did he know, CPB still clung to the underside of the bottom-most deck, grimacing in pain throughout the rest of the night as the airship drifted back to the docking station. When she was five feet off the landing pad, CPB dropped, grunting as she hit the ground and rolled. Her arm was burning with a fiery intensity, but she had refused to let go. She had won.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" a dockhand said to her, running up.
"There's gonna be a lynching today," she snarled through gritted teeth.
|Day One: Plasmastains|
[Frost and I alternated sentences in this post ;D See if you can tell them apart]
The sun rose above the shifting sands surrounding Oasis as the citizens gathered below to discuss the previous night's events. As the blazing disk climbed higher into its noon niche in the apex of the sky, two propositions were unveiled: clumping the vote, thus endowing BTSC on those pesky Quarky Agents, or spreading the vote, distinegrating the chance of the QAs hooking up but increasing the Mafia's ability to cause a massacre. While the crowd frantically tried to discern their enemies, the Mayor pondered whether the lynch should even go through, realizing that proceeding may result in the death of a good citizen.
As the firing squad turned on each other, squabbling and ready to fire, hoping that the Mayor could prevent this potential catastrophe, one Innocent watched, torn between her options. The squad readied their rifles, peering around at the populace and aiming from one person to the next, unsure of who they should take out. The Mayor stood up, arms reaching into the air, ready to pardon the lynch... "wait!" cried CPB, and launched herself into the midst of the gunmen... instinctively they swung their guns at her and fired...
As CPB was being peppered with bullets from all sides, a horrendous and piercing outcry came from the depths of the crowd...the Grim Reaper burst from amidst the citizens, hurtling towards CPB in a vain attempt to have the last attack. "Nooooooooooo!!!!!" bellowed Social Darwin, scythe swinging toward the Ninja, who was twisting and shaking as bullets battered her... time slowed to a crawl... the Mayor's heart did a single beat as the town leader watched in amazement... the Grim Reaper's skeletal mouth was open in a deranged oval, scythe in claw... CPB collapsed to the ground, dead and bloody... and then it was all over in an explosion of mindbending plasma.
Then there was silence...the crowd stared at the broken body of CPB, and the plasmatic remnants of the former Grim Reaper, fearing for what could be more insane than this...but little did they know that during the pandemonium, the QAs had managed to identify one another...and they were plotting something...
|Night Two: From Sands to Snow|
The powdery colorless flakes swirled around the solitary penguin’s feet. His sullen eyes carried the weight of his horrid news, looking past the falling snow into the shadowy night. Blustery winds howled past his deep fuschia ears as he approached his destination. The tinkling of the doorbell resonated in the depths of the penguin’s mind. The door slowly opened. “Come in, come in,” came a voice from the darkness. The penguin followed the raspy whispers of the voice up a flight of stairs to a doorway flanked by two blazing molten candles. “He’s right in there, go on in,” the voice chanted. The penguin turned the rusty doorknob and swung the door open, stepping into the room. To his right a fireplace crackled with light, casting dancing shadows across the room. As he walked over to where the mayor was seated, the penguin’s shadow performed a graceful waltz behind him. “Please, sit down,” offered the mayor, without even glancing at the penguin. The penguin took a seat beside the mayor. “What information have you brought to me?”
“Well sir, we just received a report from Oasis. They said it was urgent. Apparently the Grim Reaper was spotted there just yesterday.”
“Not this again…I thought we had resolved all this.”
“Yes, well, he was said to have exploded into some sort of…’plasmatic goo?’ I wasn’t very clear on that, but they say he’s gone. However, they also mentioned some recent deaths from an unidentified gang…and there was word the dreaded Quarkies had invaded the city.”
“Oh, great, not them. Won’t they ever learn? They failed miserably the last few times they tried to take over Content Phoenix, every time we just push them farther back. One day we should just wipe them out entirely.”
“Well sir, that wasn’t all they said…it seems that both this so-called ‘mafia’ and the band of QAs are heading…in our direction.”
“They’re coming here? We’ve managed to keep Pengville reasonably peaceful ever since that last ordeal 3 years ago…well, I won’t stand for any of this! We’ll just have to get them before they get us!”
Unknown to the mayor, there was already some commotion in the outskirts of Pengville…
Grimtooth stared out his foggy window into the blizzard outside. He sighed, tired of the snow, wishing he had never moved from the bright, sizzling sands of Oasis last week. Just before he could turn around and go to bed, a massive arm reached around his neck and squeezed tight. Choking for air, grimtooth was dragged by the neck out into the raging blizzard by a masked man. Blank snowflakes hurtled past them through the air, crashing into the mounds of white already covering the ground. Two others joined the first man, and they began pummeling grimtooth with all their might. After they’d had their fun, the first let go of grimtooth’s neck, grim’s limp body collapsing to the ground. Blood poured from the fatal wounds the men had inflicted, staining the surrounding snow a dark red.
|Day Two: Death of a Salesman (of Espionage)|
Seahorse grumbled as he was led up to the noose.
"If only I was the Master of Subterfuge," he mused. "I could survive... but nope, I am the Master of Espionage. Ah, well, I had a good run..."
The crowd jeered as Seahorse's neck snapped and his body swayed in the frozen winds of Pengville.
After this spectacle was over, the Mayor (or Mayoress) sprinted out of the town hall, yelling at everyone to leave. "I promised there would be no more violence here! Go! Go and take this body and this noose and everything! Get out of here before the normal happy citizens of Pengville see what just happened! Get out, I say!"
"Where can we go?" someone shouted.
"The Port of Unreality is south of here along the coast, a popular beach spot!" the Mayor/ess declared. "Go there and good riddance!"
|Night Three: OMG FLYING PURPLE MONKEYS!|
The clanging of tools resonated throughout the bustling shipyard like the honking horns of a traffic pile-up in a metropolis. No matter where one looked, there would be a ship, boat, jetty, or yacht tied up along the shore. People hard at work could be seen everywhere, on boats, off boats, and all around the harbor. Seagulls swarmed the docks, flocking towards anything that could even remotely be considered food. One such seagull had his eye on Jarze’s lunch. Jarze, exhausted from a long day of fishing, was relaxing on the deck of his ship. He had prepared a sandwich to enjoy, but had dozed off before he had time to dig into it. The seagull dove and engulfed the small feast, taking off to join the rest of his flying brethren above the harbor.
A cloaked figure hustled down the seaside wharf. He hurried past a flyer that had been posted on one of the wooden posts along the dock, merely glancing at it. He stopped and turned back around, approaching the sheet of paper fluttering in the wind, feebly holding onto the post with a small piece of tape. He snatched it off and read the message printed in large letters, and what appeared to be Comic Sans font with a title saying: A message from the Mayor. The message read: "The mayor is, uh, still alive. Or at least was alive at the time of this message." He crumpled up the flyer with a muffled “Pah!” then continued on his way. He came up to a particularly fancy boat and signaled to his waiting partner. They silently boarded the ship, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. The first pointed in the direction of the control room, and the other headed off for it. While the other was doing this, the first went for the front deck, spying Jarze on the prow. He glanced up to see his partner at the wheel, who had just started the engine and was steering the ship out of the harbor. Coming up to Jarze from behind, the cloaked mafioso placed his hands on Jarze’s head and skillfully snapped Jarze’s neck before he could wake up. After they had gotten out to open waters, the two mafiosos wrapped Jarze up in a rug and heaved him over the edge, watching his body disappear into the briny depths. The boat returned as quietly as it had left to the harbor, only missing a sandwich…oh, and its captain.
On the other side of the harbor, LIS was hurriedly transferring cargo boxes to the nearby ship, which was supposed to have left hours ago. He set down the large crate that he had been lugging for a second to catch a quick breather. Closing his eyes for a few moments, LIS sighed. Huge cargo units surrounded him on all sides, hiding him from the other shipyard workers. High above him was the large crane used to lift the large cargo units onto the ships. “Man, why couldn’t we just use that…” LIS grumbled to himself, though he knew that the ship he was stocking couldn’t store, let alone carry one of those massive boxes. Suddenly the crane above LIS rumbled to life. “Heh heh heh…” chuckled the voice from inside the cabin, swinging the arm down over the closest box. Surprised to see the crane running at this time of day, LIS gazed up curiously, trying to make out the operator. Whistling while he worked, the Musclehead grabbed one of the boxes and lifted it high into the air, far above LIS. Realizing what was going on, LIS began to frantically run away from ultimate doom. “I know who you are LIS. You cannot stop me,” said the Musclehead to himself as he pushed the “Release” button. The huge metal storage unit full of furniture crashed to the ground, crushing LIS beneath its weight. The Musclehead hopped out of the crane, haplessly letting it smash a gaping hole in the docked ship. “That ought to keep them busy,” he laughed, walking away.
|Day 3: Failure to Launch|
"On these crimes and more, we declare you to hang by the neck until dead-" droned the executioner. Impy stood on, grimset, mouth hard.
"Wait!" the Mayor cried all of a sudden, his or her voice reverberating through the jetties and wharfs. "We can't risk it!"
"It didn't matter," Impy laughed. "We were going to die anyway... since I am the Master of Malice after all..."
Death itself - aka the Grim Reaper - coalesced from the shadows in the confused hearts of everyone present and swooped down on Impy, slicing him apart in a cackling fit. "I failed to kill the Ninja and you did as well!" the Ninja laughed. "And your secondary wincon is of course extremely difficult... and you failed!"
He then did a flip, causing seahorse's grave to explode, before landing on Einkil and blazing the Master of Subterfuge's body into a nonexistent blur.
"Everyone knew coming into this that the odds were stacked against the QAs as they always have been," the Grim Reaper observed as he slowly disappeared into thin air. "It also didn't help that the Defender died on N1 and so the Ninja offered herself on D1... but that's the way the cookie crumbled, and so begins the fourth Night of this odd game!"
|Night 4: Deadly Lights|
The vast metropolis of DenBrain spread across the valley at the base of the surrounding mountains, illuminated by the enormous quantities of flickering street lights and colorful signs. Not to mention the skyscrapers patterned with bright windows, which were almost like a melodious matrix of squares. The streets were lit up like airstrips, bustling with many people soaking up the night’s entertainment. Traffic slowed along the main boulevards, horns blaring from vehicle to vehicle.
CL didn’t particularly enjoy the busy city streets, and enjoyed taking a relaxing stroll along the quieter outer roads that weren’t infested with the nightly claptrap of people. She could hear the sounds of the nightlife in the distance clamoring for attention in the great city. She was happy here, content to be alone. A few blocks behind her, a car turned the corner and headed in her direction. She glanced back, surprised to see any sign of life out on these deserted streets. The car sped up, now racing towards CL at blazing speeds. CL started running away in a feeble attempt to escape it, rounding a corner to get away. The car screeched after her, one of its windows rolling down. In the last few seconds of her life, CL watched as a machine gun protruded from the emptiness inside the car and started peppering her with bullets. CL dropped to the ground as the black car streaked away into the night towards the shimmering lights at the heart of DenBrain.
CPB, ever the one to party, had taken to dancing at one of the newest clubs in the district. She danced the night away, drinking and partying like always. After hours of enjoying the night, CPB headed home, exhausted. She took the elevator up to the 34th floor of her building, watching as the little lights flicked from floor to floor. Once she got inside her apartment, she collapsed on her couch and closed her eyes, relaxed. “Finally,” muttered the impatient Musclehead, “I’ve been waiting all night. It’s time I take you out CPB.” High atop the roof of the nearby building, the Musclehead hefted his sniper rifle onto the ledge. He peered through the sight at CPB, aiming directly at her heart. With a flick of his finger, the Musclehead hit the trigger and fired his one and only shot. The large window behind CPB shattered into millions of pieces, all of which slowly came crashing down and over the edge. The bullet gyrated through the air, hammering into CPB and piercing her heart. She had only time to let out a final gasp before she fell limp on her couch. The glass toppled over the edge towards the city streets below, raining down on the unsuspecting citizens. Finished, the Musclehead smiled a satisfied smile, picked up his sniper rifle, and disappeared into the night.
|Day 4: Endgame|
The toils of the day were over and the results were in...
(That was the entire day post, followed by the roster showing Mekal lynched)
|Night Five: THE END OF THE END OF THE END OF THE BEGINNING OF THE END 1|
This is the Blue part by Frost, appeared at top of final post
The mafia had scoured the entirety of Content Phoenix, spreading with them chaos and villainy. In the end, they wound up at the focal point of Content Phoenix where their group had originated: the lost town of Phoenix. They would end it here.
Immediately after the sun had just set below the horizon, ST hurriedly set out for home. She knew the mafia had arrived, and it was well known who they were, but as long as they hid in the shadows no one could touch them. ST quickened her pace, not wanting to get caught in the pitch black of the night.
Suddenly she noticed a sound behind her: footsteps. She stopped; the footsteps stopped. ST walked forward again, and so did the footsteps. She began running, faster and faster, as the footsteps came ever closer. Without looking back, ST dashed into an alley in hopes of avoiding her stalker. Moments later, a silhouette passed by the alleyway, not noticing ST crouching behind a dumpster.
“Phew, that was close,” ST breathed a sigh of relief, standing up. “Not as close as this,” whispered a voice from behind her. A hand holding a knife whipped out and slit ST’s throat in an instant, her lifeless body falling to the assailant’s feet.
“Where’s your god now – Oh, wait. Nevermind.” The Musclehead chuckled his usual chuckle, stepped over the dead lump that was ST seconds before, and srode off down the street, whistling to himself.
Across town, a lonely mafioso smashed the window of riranor’s house. He glanced around on the inside, making sure no one heard him. Quietly, he snuck over to riranor’s bed and pulled out a revolver. The mafioso fired it twice into riranor’s dozing body, then holstered the gun. He dashed out of the house like a quick brown fox, jumping over the lazy body of riranor and out the window.
Next door, the Doctor awoke to the gunshots. He got up from his comfy mattress and peered out the window into the darkening night. He managed to catch a glimpse of a man running from riranor’s house. Worried, the Doctor rushed downstairs, grabbing his med kit on the way out, and run over to riranor’s house. “Oh dear…” the Doctor muttered, “this one could be tough. But I always love a challenge.”
He worked into the night, and by morning he had successfully removed the bullets, and riranor was in good enough condition to get up. “We have…to…stop them,” riranor muttered.
The next day, five people gathered. Two were in a fit of rage. Three were standing around smugly, congratulating each other on their fine work.
“We won’t stand for this! You must stop now, or we’ll make you stop!” called out SD.
“You and LIS? I don’t think so. It’s three against two,” laughed sparrowhawk.
“Ah, but you weren’t careful. I managed to save riranor last night. So it’s three against three!”
“A tie then, eh? No matter, we’ll still defeat you,” stated IDNE casually.
“Oh yeah, how is that possible?”
Surge lunged at LIS, piercing through LIS with his hidden katana. The Savior slid off the sword and fell back, blood oozing from his choking, mangled body.
“Now that you’re dead, we can–”
Surge stood still for a moment, red streaking down his face. The bullet had gone right through his skull, shattering it and damaging the brain. Surge collapsed on top of the now dead LIS, his face twisted in his devilish grin.
Smoke swirled up from the end of riranor’s gun. “Well that shut him up. At least your brilliant Musclehead is gone too. Now that he’s out of the way, you all will be much easier to defeat.”
“On the contrary, riranor,” sparrowhawk put forth. “For you see, we have already won. You all have been defeated.”
“Wait, what? That’s not possible!”
“Oh, but it is. You see, a few days ago we had been hoping that the Atheist would have helped us out and made us unlynchable, therefore winning the game. We felt that was our best shot at the time. While ST may not have done that, she gave us a gift in a different way. She never helped any of you with her ability. She never even once used her secret ability, though it’s not like she really could have, anyway. None of you were aware of it, and neither were we until we killed her last night. Apparently she can lie-detect statements, but only on those that are voting for her at the time of detection. I won’t bother going into detail, but ST really was useful in not being useful.”
“You see,” continued IDNE, “We considered the possibility of the doctor or Savior saving our normal kill. Thankfully we managed to get in one more RID beforehand, but it is unimportant that you saved riranor. For we have the upper hand. By killing LIS today, riranor is unprotected tonight, and is an easy target for our kill. Not that he was any use to you anymore, fat lot of good a Spy is now…”
“Tomorrow it will be us versus you, SD, and I think we know how that’s going to turn out.”
“So you see, you have been defeated. Against all odds, we somehow managed to pull it off.”
“I still can’t believe we managed it, after that first day, I was sure we were sunk. The Grim Reaper gone right away and the Quarkies on the ropes, we were sure to get stopped. But we slid under the spotlight and held out until the end. And now we can relax in victory!”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” SD the Doctor charged sparrowhawk, and riranor feebly swung his arm over to aim his gun at IDNE. Though a bit taken aback by the attack, sparrowhawk easily sidestepped SD’s onslaught and struck SD in the back with his arm, knocking SD down. IDNE dove out of the way of riranor’s shot, rolling behind a car. Sparrowhawk slammed his foot on top of SD, keeping SD pinned to the ground. He clenched SD’s skull in his hands and smashed it into the pavement multiple times. Blood gushed everywhere as Sparrowhawk continued to grind SD into the earth. The disfigured face of SD thudded on the ground after sparrowhawk let go, SD now another casualty of the massacre. Sparrowhawk stood up and kicked SD one last time for getting in their way, then looked over a IDNE.
“Little help!” called out IDNE, who was trying to dodge riranor’s bullets. Sparrowhawk reached down, and with his knife, sliced off the remains of SD’s head and grasped the spurting object in his fist. With all his might, he hurled the disembodied head straight at riranor, blood shooting everywhere as the base twisted around in the air, splattering all three of them. Riranor cringed just as the flying head of his former friend knocked him out cold.
“Should we end him humanely?” sparrowhawk asked IDNE. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea,” he replied.
Hours later, riranor woke up, cramped and in pain. “Wha – Where am I?” Riranor clawed around in the pitch black for a few seconds. Then it was obvious: he was trapped. He screamed for help, but to no avail. No one could hear him, or at least, no one that cared could. Just a few feet above him, the last two of the Mafia leaned back on lawn chairs, listening to the screams of their victim emanating from below. “Hey, this was better idea,” smiled sparrowhawk.
“Ah, now this is the life…” sighed IDNE happily, “Nothing can stop us now.”
“We control the entire Continent! We can do whatever we want! We’ll rule the most powerful and corrupt place in the world! People will bow down before our might…”
“We couldn’t have done it without you Surge,” the two mafiosos said, looking down on their lost member. “Your death allowed us victory. Congratulations, old friend!”
|Night Five: THE END OF THE END OF THE END OF THE BEGINNING OF THE END 2|
This is the Red part by Unreality, appeared at bottom of final post
"So it ends," Host God Unreality murmured, stroking a lustrous divine flowing white beard laced with golden holiness. "So it ends."
"Yes," Host God Frost murmured, stroking a lustrous divine flowing white mustache laced with golden holiness. "Indeed."
The Host Gods looked around their heavenly nirvana of a paradise, and then at themselves. Perfectly sculpted bodies, tan in the sun of legends. White Grecian robes, radiant skin, leather sandals.
"I sure do like the beach," Unreality added. Frost gave a grunt of agreement.
The camera crew panned outward, showing the calmly lapping waves of Rich Port, an island far to the south of the continent of Content Phoenix.
"It's hard for One to have regrets about the ungodly jobs we've been doing," Frost observed. "When One is relaxing like this."
"Agreed," Unreality chuckled. "I don't mind that the Mafia is in control of Content Phoenix. The land's been consumed in a massive criminal network of corruption."
"Yes," concurred the Frosty Being. "Total financial cut-throatery has ensued."
"And so we arrive at the present day of Content Phoenix, also known as America," Unreality revealed with a boom of thunder in a perfectly calm blue sky. It started to rain on the perfectly tan beach.
"That final battle in Phoenix with the Mafia sure was hairy," Frost added luxuriously. "That battle in Phoenix, Arizona."
"Hehe," Unreality chortled, looking around at the now troubled shore of Rich Port - also known as Puerto Rico. "Damn straight, my Man."
"Well we had a good run," Frost said truthfully, tossing away the mojito that Surge had made him (the blasted rain was ruining it).
"That we did," replied Unreality, as the rain got increasingly wetter. The beach was soaked at this point, and neither Host God moved from His lawn chair. They didn't mind the rain or the dark, brooding sky.
"Damn it's been a while," added Frost. "More than a year of utter insanity, deceit, chaos and strategy."
"Mafias I, II, IV and II-Redux were all in Awesomeville too," concluded Unreality. "That was one turbulent place. It's the last anti-Mafia sanctuary left in all of America. The problem is, nobody knows where it is. Only the steadfast Innocents that survived through four gritty games for an eventual Innocent victory know where it is, and they aren't releasing the location for fear of another Mafia invasion. So in a way, an equilibrium has been established."
"So Awesomeville is a shrine of purity amid the modern wasteland," Frost noted. "But the other towns weren't so lucky. Poor Pengville, also known as Fairbanks."
"Yeah, and San José, sometimes called Oasis," said Unreality. "And poor San Fransisco - I mean Port of Unreality."
"Most of all poor Denbrain, the capital city," Frost clucked. "Washington DC at its lowpoint."
"Well at least those quarky Mexicans weren't able to invade America," Unreality said. "But they did have a good view of the slaughter at Phoenix, Arizona. All of our beloved continent was at the tip of the spear (except for the sanctuary of Awesomeville), from desert to tundra, from capital to town to port, and it all fell to shards at the hands of that dastardly Mafia."
"I'm still shocked they managed to pull off a perfect win in this conflict which we have dubbed Multimafia," Frost whistled. "With all the odds stacked against them."
"It certainly was incredible... the conclusion of the entire Content Phoenix universe. Of America. Mafia VIII, aka Multimafia, ending the entire epic saga... even Incogville from Classic Mafia can't escape."
"Yes, I heard the Zen/Mafia balance is still in effect there, though, so that's a plus," Frost said optimistically, stroking his mustache.
"Woot!" Unreality cheered. "We take our pluses where he find them," he added optimistically, speaking to no one in particular (and stroking his beard, now slick with the rain that was thundering down on the northern shores of Puerto Rico).
"Somewhere across the stormy waters in front of us," Frost observed. "Is Content Phoenix. Our... our home."
"This isn't necessarily the end, though," Unreality reassured him. "Mafia VII is 100% isolated, taking place in a werewolf-infested mountain village somewhere. It could be happening now, ten years from now, or a hundred years ago. I believe it's somewhere in Colorado though."
"Most likely 100 years ago," Frost muttered.
"Yeah," Unreality muttered.
"Yeah," Frost muttered. "Are you crying?"
"What? No!" Unreality snapped, brushing a hand accidentally across his face. "That's rainwater."
There was a pause, and the rain drummed harder. The sand was beginning to bulge up in its own saturation, threatening to carry the holy lawn chairs into the sea.
"And," Unreality snorted. "There's Mafia IX - Medieval Mafia - happening in our distant distant magical fantasy past. So this isn't necessarily the last we'll see of it."
"But it is the last we'll see of us," Frost muttered. "We had nothing to do with the werewolf infestation in Colorado a century ago, nor with the magical warfare that took place millenia ago... this is... this is the end of our adventure... it ends here..."
"Yeah," Unreality muttered. "Are you crying?"
"What? No!" Frost snapped, brushing a hand accidentally across his face. "That's rainwater."
There was a pause, and the rain drummed even harder.
It was end-of-the-world kind of rain. Torrential apocalyptic weather. Lightning blazed and crackled overhead. Thunder boomed and roared.
"This really is the end," Unreality said. "After we're gone, the land will be..."
"...godless," Frost finished.
"Yes, godless," Unreality replied. "The word has an interesting ring to it."
"What does it mean?"
"It means freedom. From this point into the chronological future, there will be no more games, no more structured battles. Every choice will be open. The future is theirs. I hope they make the most of it."
"I hope so as well," Frost said.
"Well," Unreality announced with finality. "I can't think of anything else to say."
"This is it. The end."
"The battle at the end of the end," Unreality agreed. "The duel of the Host Gods."
"It's an end for us," Frost corrected. "The beginning for them. For everyone else."
"A new era is beginning," Unreality said, nodding. "So, what are we dueling about, again?"
"You spilled my mojito, bitch!" Frost yelled, pointing at the shattered glass. The rain was coming down in bullets, in buckets, in barrages.
"What? You did that!!!" Unreality yelled back, his beard flaring into a fiery maelstrom of elemental energy.
"No way man... it's time to die!" Frost bellowed, his mustache flaring into a fiery maelstrom of elemental energy.
There was a tense moment of tense tension as the tension built tensely until the tension built to a tense point of te- BOOM!!!
The divine lawn chairs exploded, propelling the Host Gods high into the violent storm. Shock waves of water cascaded away as the divinities threw epic punches at each other, the supersonic near-collisions sending out volcanic repercussions through the storm system as the gods battled it out high up there in the raging watery winds. The camera crew did impressive 360-degree pan shots, getting intense angles as the action sped to a blur, accompanied by the building musical crescendo.
And then, at the singularity, at the moment of the apex, the pinnacle, the acme, the moment of utmost infinite intensity, the height of the blazing battle, where the punches were creating fiery infernos of friction with the stormy oxygen and the high-static twitches of hairs set off lightning strikes, at this convergence of sound and light and divine wrath... at the peak of the towering mountain of absolute power itself...
...everything slowed to Matrix-style slow-mo bullet-time. Frost's Most Holy Arm of Divinity shattered suspended rain droplets on its Planck-time crawl toward Unreality's Most Holy Face of Divinity.... Unreality's aetheric being and godly flesh slowly moved through the air to escape the blow, but not fast enough... at the same time, Unreality's Most Holy Fist of Eternity burst frozen aqueous bubbles on its quantum-scale advance toward Frost's Most Holy Visage of Eternity... Frost's godly being and aetheric flesh slowly moved through the air to escape the attack, but not fast enough...
And then everything blasted into LUDICROUS SPEED! As the whirling energy coalesced, the Immortal Blows of Frost and Unreality struck each other at the same time, resonating in a massive eruption that rippled across the entire planet, cascading the world into...
"We've gone plaid!" Unreality uttered moments before the secondary shock wave ripped outwards from the point of impact.
After the torrential storm ended, leaving all of America wet but peaceful (under the corrupt eye of the Mafia of course), Host Gods Frost and Unreality were nowhere to be seen, ever ever again.
End of Game Roster Edit
- Sparrowhawk - Trickster
- JarZe - Janitor - Sunk by the Mafia N3
- Kat/CPB - Chameleon - RID'd by the Musclehead N4
- Einkil - MoS - Failed secondary wincon D3
- Cherry Lane - Mayor(ess) - Shot by the Mafia N4
- Impy - MoM - Failed secondary wincon D3
- Grimtooth - Inspector - Left for dead by the Mafia N2
- Seahorse - MoE - Lynched D2
- Mekal - Sentinel - Lynched D4
- ST - Atheist - RID'd by the Musclehead N5
- Dawg - Defender - Dunked by the Mafia N1
- Surge - Musclehead
- Marth/SD (SD replaced Marth) - Doctor
- Riranor - Spy
- IDNE - Blackmailer
- Social Darwin - Grim Reaper - Failed wincon D1
- Limey/LIS - Savior
- CPB - Ninja - Sacrificed self in the lynch D1
- LIS - Avenger - RID'd by the Musclehead N3
|List of actions|
game over, mafia has ensured victory