Mafiascum.net

Secret/Remi are the confident 2 for me for scum. The rest are toss up
~M

In post 4018, Maid Cafe wrote:@Alisae, sorry for self presing on you.
I thought you were town but I also think we both die anyway and town needs to readjust.

yeah at this point we just need to flip

He basically came in discrediting himself so why push him as scum?

In retrospect. Should have pushed them more. Tho.

Why the fuck did we eliminate Alisae, did anyone seriously think they were that scummy??

I guess I didn’t really try today so I can’t talk, maybe I’ll put more effort into this D2.

-innocentvillager

In post 4021, Maid Cafe wrote:I'm sui bombing right at day start.

i was just going to suggest this actually

in the event i'm not around tomorrow, make them suicide bomb right away

and don't let them claim who they 'primed' because that just lets people go "oh no, don't do that!!!"

just make them do it with zero discussion

*blink*
Who were your scum reads again ST?

In post 4028, Secret Tunnel wrote:Why the fuck did we eliminate Alisae, did anyone seriously think they were that scummy??

I guess I didn’t really try today so I can’t talk, maybe I’ll put more effort into this D2.

-innocentvillager

I was eliminated because ywall couldn't organize another wagon on someone else and honestly its fine

In post 4028, Secret Tunnel wrote:Why the fuck did we eliminate Alisae, did anyone seriously think they were that scummy??

No.
Next question

In post 4028, Secret Tunnel wrote:Why the fuck did we eliminate Alisae, did anyone seriously think they were that scummy??

I guess I didn’t really try today so I can’t talk, maybe I’ll put more effort into this D2.

-innocentvillager

This pings.

In post 4029, zMuffinMan wrote:and don't let them claim who they 'primed' because that just lets people go "oh no, don't do that!!!"

just make them do it with zero discussion

????? ? ? ? ? ?

what if the target is an investigative with results or something? or an IC?

In post 4028, Secret Tunnel wrote:Why the fuck did we eliminate Alisae, did anyone seriously think they were that scummy??

I guess I didn’t really try today so I can’t talk, maybe I’ll put more effort into this D2.

-innocentvillager

I just fired off half of my anti-torpedo underwater flares at this post. That's how big of a radar signature it set off.

Damn you spay half mine is cooler but you beat me to it.

...I scum read alisae. >.>

In post 4037, Bell wrote:...I scum read alisae. >.>

I did at first, but not at second.

It doesn't matter though. Gamestate is what gamestate was.

Data for the data gods.

Yeah, I don’t get that, it’s tonally off, given how out of center their control of the game was.

Nacho here,
Other than 420 anything else?

In post 4040, Bell wrote:Nacho

You're not cho mama, or anything.

Lobby.

So are we sure Alisae’s town?

In post 4034, Something_Smart wrote:????? ? ? ? ? ?

what if the target is an investigative with results or something? or an IC?

there's no IC in this game and i don't think the odds of this are very high but also i don't think that's a huge loss when the alternative is them not proving their role with that as an excuse

i should probably mention, i don't really care about PRs surviving

like at all

think i've mentioned this before, but i treat every game as though it's mountainous - if PRs affect the results, so be it, but i never rely on them

It's been real

Ruby Rhod had always prided himself on being someone with a strong sense of control. He, like his father and grandfather before him, had served in the military, which at a time where he was on reserve and only obligated to basic intermittently, didn't dictate his every day habits except for a few notable exceptions - the ghosts of discipline that refuse to be banished. He still woke up at 5:45 every morning, and he still was always perfectly put together, no matter how fucked up he was the night before. Even when he was drunk enough to the point of he was belting out Beelzeboss and most of the 50th Law Mixtape whether there was music in the background or the not, he still placed himself in an area that was safe. Tonight was different.

He was alone - there wasn't a sober (or at the very least, soberer) buddy to tell him that what he was doing was idiotic, and there wasn't even a stranger who would feel obligated to take care of him if only to prevent him dying on their doorstep. He was lost - he remembered fragments of yelling at someone and someone yelling back. He remembered someone at an apartment he didn't recognize asking him to say "Bloody Hell!" and "Harry Potter!" and him entertaining them but searching for a way to leave without seeming like a jackass. What he didn't remember is what stop he got off on the Blue Line (or if his last stop even was the Blue Line), or where he thought he was headed.

But did it really matter? He remembered how he got to this point, at least - his application for financial aid was denied, which means that he was being forced to go back home for a year in the hopes the college would change their mind and let him complete his education, which, if he continued with the plan that he'd committed to and he told his family he'd been committed to, meant that he'd only be able to complete half of his education. Who knows what law school would let him in? Who knows what jobs he could find after completing law school? How could he justify hoping that he would pull himself out of this mess when he couldn't even complete the first step? He just wanted a day where he didn't have to deal with worrying about his lack of a future, and so he drank and he drank too much, and now look where he ended up?

What was bubbly alcoholic joy minutes earlier quickly faded to sheer panic and he felt the urge to just stand in the middle of the road and scream for help, but was derailed by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He fumbled for it, trying several times to figure out how to answer it until he finally dropped it to the ground. At the sight of his last hope clattering on the concrete, Ruby Rhod let his consciousness slip away.

Night 1 officially begins!

Deadline for night is 72 hours*, meaning that we will open the game thread on Monday morning. You may submit actions to either Tammy or myself.

* = apparently unable to do basic math

The day surrounding my trip began fairly normally, as far as a day in the life of College-cho went. My day was cleared specifically so I could do drugs, but I also was up late partying the night before and have a well-documented love of sleeping in, so by the time I had shuffled in and out of the communal shower and to the kitchen (our preferred location for doing drugs on the weekdays), Squeegee, my partner in crime, was the only one left in the room, and his eyes brightened in a way that would have set my scumdar ablaze if I wasn't currently processing the world through a hungover haze. Squeegee is a beautiful man and I loved him dearly, but he would often serve as either the mother of the group or the enabler. Much like his father, Squeegee was an incredibly warm and caring individual who also had a barely hidden sadistic streak and kind of just enjoyed watching the world burn. And so from this sketchy, sketchy man I took three or four tabs of a substance that I assumed was acid and downed them along with a beer poured from the basement tap.

And of course, nothing happened at first. Our trip sitter, a wise old graduate student who also served as a bit of a tastemaker in vice, had an initial panic attack about how much I took (it was apparently WAY more than Squeegee took, although I got conflicting stories on that as well), but the resolution was that as long as I didn't fall asleep while I was tripping balls, I wouldn't die. As you might imagine, this wasn't incredibly reassuring to hear when you're about to go on a trip, but I've always been a "roll with the punches" type of guy so I pushed it to the back of my mind and went about my day.

The first bit of a trip is always kind of scientific f

o

r me; I know that some shoe is about to drop but I don't exactly know the shape nor the nature of it (and sometimes these things are incredibly underwhelming), so

S

queegee and I mostly started out by chatting whether the skies were bluer, or if we were seeing cracks in the pavement that weren't there, or (always my f

a

vorite part), wondering if people in the outside world could pick us out a mile away and figure out that today we weren't on the same wavelen

g

th with them. It began to hit Squeegee first, who would secretly touch his left nipple, flinch, as if he'd been shocked, then giggle mercilessly. We also yanked a fairly sizeable group of friends with us to come with us to the beach to witness th

e

spectacle, where we chased each other around, wrestled on the grass, hung out on the beach.

It took until that moment for me to realize that I hit the point of no return; that I was officially headed off to somewhere else and it was going to be a doozy. I closed my eyes and I felt the world form barriers around me; the breez

e

from the beach that felt lovely before now was no longer shielding us from the summer sun, and now was enough to make you shiver, but this barrier around me protected me - the word

sanctuary

very solidly sticks in my mind whenever I think about it, but while the concept of a magical barrier surrounding me seems a

b

solutely ridiculous to a sober brain and the words and thoughts that went through my mind in the moment are now all gone - the feeling of being protected but also knowing that once I step outside of that circle of protection all hell was bound to break loose - that feeling I can still r

e

member as if all this crazy shit went down yesterday. I looked over at Squeegee, whose eyes were now a little wider with fear, as

i

f he was feeling the same thing I did and he k

n

ew we would need to move from it soon. I nodded at him. We looked at our trip sitter.

"Time to go?"

We nodded,

a

nd he dragged his two charges out into the world.

Less than 6 hours remain to submit those actions! You may submit them in your PTs, to Tammy, or to myself.