[NOCTURNAL STIRRINGS] ☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ M.A.F.I.A ☆ [24/25]

Once upon a time, Tlaca-Ica got really high and watched the cover of Dark Side Of The Moon while listening to The Wizard Of Oz, when it occurred to him that people were just like light. To test this hypothesis he picked one random dude, who just happened to be the dude who created the fictional character of Tlaca-Ica for Godhood XIV: Team Syrup, fragmented his identity into 25 different variations on his internal personage, and put them in a city together, called Chwokolate City.

Chwokolate City lived together, lived together in perfect harmony for 2 weeks and 3 days — finally, a land where a man could be a man and also the same man, where race, creed, gender, ability, and/or etcetera couldn't be used to discriminate. That is, until it suddenly devolved into murder chaos overnight! At daybreak, a corpse was found in the middle of the city, knife in its back, and on closer inspection of that self-same back-side, a tramp stamp was found. It read:

Chwoka was a gameplay construct whose only purpose was to die before the game actually started. He would win if he died. He was also THE GRAVESLAMMER: He was harmless to most when alive, but gained the ability to graveslam a post each day with an appropriate multimedia accompaniment post-mortem.

Jesus, what a wordy tramp stamp!

"This corpse was a murder corpse!" gasped out the Chwoka plunging their fingers deep inside the knife wound.

"But who could have done it!?" hollered another Chwoka, prone to flights of panic.

"I think it was Chwoka!" said Chwoka.

"Jesus, what a wordy tramp stamp!" cried out one Chwoka from the crowd of two-dozen-odd.

"Too long, didn't read!" agreed another Chwoka, nodding vigorously.

One Chwoka, clearly the charismatic community leader type, stood on a shoebox to elevate themselves above the equally-beheighted crowd. "Let's form a lynch mob and hang the scum who did this!"

"You're only suggesting that 'cause you're in the pocket of Big Rope!" called out another Chwoka.

"Yeah, let's lynch that guy!"

"Lynch Hitler!"

"We should hold a vote!"

"We should just kill everybody, damn it to heaven!"

"Majority or Plurality?"

"Majority!" said the majority.

"What about decimal place numbers, should we round them?" voice-jism'd a lone Chwoka.

"NO, THAT MAKES TOO MUCH FUCKING SENSE!" exclaimed the chorus of Chwokas. The Chworus.

And just like that, the game was afoot... [1]

Livelist, D1

1. Chwoka
   
2. Chwoka
   
3. Chwoka
   
4. Chwoka
   
5. Chwoka
   
6. Chwoka
   
7. Chwoka
   
8. Chwoka
   
9. Chwoka
   
10. Chwoka
    
11. Chwoka
    
12. Chwoka
    
13. Chwoka
    
14. Chwoka
    
15. Chwoka
    
16. Chwoka
    
17. Chwoka
    
18. Chwoka
    
19. Chwoka
    
20. Chwoka
    
21. Chwoka
    
22. Chwoka
    
23. Chwoka
    
24. Chwoka
    

With 24 Chwokas alive, it takes 12.5 to lynch, or 6.5 to soft lynch.

[1] ...note! [2]
[2] (That would have been a great pun if this was Murder By The Book.)