Frozen Hearts Mafia [Family Ties - Mafia/Survivor Victory]

jk vote: garuru

Oh.

Welp.

I hate you all.

did you take my picture

Love you too, Eido <3

I'm town that never got invested in this after replacing in, and gave you benefit of doubt about just not being invested in the game.

With your play in the other two games, I figured you were just out of sorts potentially, and Pala/Granola looked bad.

You weren't incorrect

But then you got me motivated in this game and made all of this possible

Eh.

I stand by the Granola lynch.

The Donut lynch was god awful though.

vote: Acionyx

I leave for a couple of hours and everyone starts abandoning the obvious Acio lynch to pile onto Granola instead. Why? Why did you all decide to throw the game like that?

Well I guess this is happening.

vote: Acionyx anyways

wait wait wait jesus dick that was hammer.

End of Day Six Votals

Garuru (5) (Mister Visceral, Acionyx, SupahKiven, Affle, Cat)
Acionyx (1) (Eidolonic)

Abstaining (3) (Druplesnubb, Garuru, OzTheWizard)

...

JANUARY 23

I knew the end would come. I didn't know it would've come as alarmingly fast and as spectacularly as it did. I should've known it was all over once Lyncroft saw it was bad enough to directly interfere. His presence had to have been the straw that broke the camel's back.

The discussion started with near dead silence. The threat of imminent death had choked out all discussion. Garuru stood in the center of the room, the shining example of vigilante justice from before, sweating profusely. Even though he was old, I could still see his moments of weakness. The man was afraid for his life.

And rightfully so, as the entire criminal squadron revealed themselves in one go and piled on the old man. The last thing he did was take out the pump-action shotgun from beneath his trenchcoat and flung the mighty weapon at me before the criminals threw him to the floor, shooting and stabbing him to death.

In the following chaos, I managed to survive. I write this two days after the fact from a hotel in Whitewash City, trying to stay low with a contact of Lyncroft's while he devises a way to get me home. I absolutely hate it in this city, by the way. It reeks of profiteering and corruption - exactly what Caribou's Den became in its final righteous hours.

Nevertheless, here's Garuru and his legacy as the closest thing Caribou's Den had to a hero.

SpoilerShow

The corner of 31st and Wellington housed a rarity for a business-oriented city like Caribou's Den - a historical faculty. A small, dimly-lit museum sheltered military artifacts of a war-torn era long past. He once walked the grounds of the battlefields, most notably in those forsaken jungle conflicts within the western rainforests. It was under his guidance that three of the army's best combatants participated in an infiltration and detonation mission that sealed victory for the aligned forces. It was a mission in scorching sun under burning trees, culminating in a hair-raising escape.

All he remembered - written on a note on his desk - were the names of his former "Green Horizon" operatives. Sergeants Harding, Franklin, Zerstörung. He wondered what became of those three. None of them seemed right after that mission.

Garuru was Commander Blaine Backman, a retired soldier who resided in Caribou's Den. Most individuals wouldn't choose a frozen city as their choice of residence, but the high quality of life and lack of anything to do other than stay inside all day made it a reasonably good choice for him. The entrepreneurial spirit about the city soon inspired him, and thus he put his collection of army memorabilia on display (for a small fee). The veteran's discount most businesses offered was a pretty sweet deal for him as well.

Trouble began brewing in Caribou's Den, however, and the sense of security about the city soon disappeared. Thankfully, he had makeshift living quarters in his own museum that protected him, just like I did. He didn't suspect anyone would come for him, but they did - and he soon proved that recognition as top sharpshooter in his training division was more than just for show.

Garuru was a TOWN RECHARGING BULLETPROOF/DAY VIGILANTE.

He had inherent bulletproof protection. Attempts on his life were likely to fail.

Upon surviving an attempt on his life, his bulletproof protection would go away. In exchange, he gained a one-shot day vigilante kill. If he successfully killed a member of the Mafia with his dayvig, his bulletproof protection would subsequently return, and the cycle would repeat until he failed to kill Mafia, and would effectively turn vanilla.

Garuru was a LOYAL CUSTOMER, and thus held Caribou's Den's best interests at heart. He would achieve victory with his fellow cafegoers when all threats to the safety and stability of Caribou's Den were eliminated.

With the commander dead, the criminals turned to me and Lyncroft. Staring us and the rest of the innocents down, I could see them start to raise their weapons. Lyncroft drew his old revolver from the start of his police days, and I raised the shotgun granted to me. This looked to be our last stand, and I refused to go down.

"Don't kill another innocent customer of mine, you cretins," I snarled. My words set off a prompt firefight between all of us, with pistols flying behind the counter and my shotgun shells responding in time. As the fighting died down, I grabbed Lyncroft and pulled him with me into the back door of the cafe, leading us downstairs to my dwelling. In case of an emergency, there was one escape I could use. It was less than ideal, but we had no choice with the criminals standing between us and the main entrance.

Shotgun facing outward, I backed into the room and locked the door before they could chase. With heavy pounding and kicking, Lyncroft and I fled into the depths of the cellar.

Frozen Hearts

"I don't think this was the best way out."

I didn't have time for Lyncroft's contemplative bullshit. It was the hour of reckoning, and concerns over the criminal's presence in portions of the city was no excuse to not take the best option we had. I'd rather walk through the depths of the sewers than try to kamikaze-charge my way out of the cafe alive.

Which is exactly what we were doing. My basement home had a heavy, metal door that was locked in one of the storage closets, much like the one I found the day I discovered Eleanor's body. It, too, was an entrance to the sewers. I grabbed my remaining possessions, stuffed them into my suitcase, and we vanished into the sewers. I locked the door behind us with the key I was given, and that's when we heard the door above break down. Footsteps thundered as the others charged into the basement, hoping to find us. They only found the handful of books I read and the cot I slept on.

Lyncroft and I trudged through the sewers, breathing with our mouths as not to take in the awful stench. The scents of waste and ashes filled the air in the poorly lit service tunnels, which were easily only six or so feet tall and not much wider. The mesh grate we walked on allowed the liquid sewage to run beneath us, meaning we only had to dodge the lumps of solid wastes left on the walking platform. I wondered how the sanitary department cleaned up such a mess, and how the hell the Trash King lived down here.

"Know your way through here?" I asked Lyncroft.

"Like the back of my hand, sadly," Lyncroft replied. "Had issues ten or so years back with teens wandering in these tunnels at night..."

Although we soon found less cramped and cleaner passages, one of the most unsettling discoveries had to be the body of Palamedes, decaying in a dead end tunnel. He was still tied at the wrists, indicating a lack of effort to make the death look intentional.

"We're near the police station," Lyncroft said. "Looks like whoever was withholding the results of the background checks made those vanishes happen, too. Took them down here to die."

"Explains Eleanor's death," I said. "Any idea who he may be?"

"I'd have to go to the police station," Lyncroft said, "but look at his clothes. I recognize that brand anywhere, and he'd be the only person on this continent to wear those sham clothes. Just look him up online once we get out of here alive."

And so I did. That B-list celebrity was clearly Palamedes. I didn't know why I failed to recognize that smug smile of his sooner.

SpoilerShow

"★☆☆☆"
- Fashion Magazine Weekly

No, no, not Ralph Lauren. Don't get the wrong idea.

Palamedes was actually Rolph Lauren - faux fashion designer, misanthropist, business executive. He bore numerous similarities to a certain fictional fashion mogul, who was originally his very inspiration to enter the world of clothing and fashion-related business. Upon getting his feet wet in said world, however, his clothing wasn't that well received. A slew of negative reviews and complaints about "holes in pockets" sent his venture into the red almost immediately. Efforts to market the holes in pockets as an "emergency discard feature" didn't work at all.

He took his sham business to Caribou's Den, where the residents inured to the cold would likely not know the difference between warm and thin, threadbare jackets. While pouring over the requisite paperwork to start a business in my cafe (must've been due to the free Wi-Fi), this whole mess went down. To him, it was probably best to participate and just get it over with so he could start selling a new line of summer track jackets rebranded as winter coats.

Palamedes was a TOWN VANILLA.

He lacked any special powers, aside from being able to talk during the day and having a lynch vote to make free use of.

Palamedes was a LOYAL CUSTOMER, and thus held Caribou's Den's best interests at heart. He would achieve victory with his fellow cafegoers when all threats to the safety and stability of Caribou's Den were eliminated.

We soon found our way out of the sewers and back to the surface. I was never happier to be blasted with the bitter winds of the city, and rather pleased to see a light snowfall occurring. We climbed the icy steps up to the main street bridge, where we met Eidolonic. I was relieved to see one of my regulars alive. He wasn't up for much conversation, however.

"I'm getting out of this city right now," he said hurriedly. "Not risking my life another second! I'll need bodyguards for days..."

"Wait, help us out before you go-"

"Not now, Lyncroft!" Eidolonic shouted. "Listen, here's the rundown. Two of them went into the sewers after you two. Two are on the surface. The others fled as well, and I have no idea where anyone is. Just get the fuck out of here before ANY of them find you two!" Without any further world, Eidolonic leapt in a nearby car and drove away. "The name's Darcy, and I'm that musician if you must know!" was all I heard as the car sped off into the distance, blowing a few red lights and stop signs along the way.

I looked him up, too. Sure enough, that was him. Recognized the face and everything.

SpoilerShow

Music is a powerful tool to control human emotion. Melodies and harmonies all contribute to the grand stories told in a single, individual song. A combination of notes on different instruments all come together to create one story, one whose moral varies from person to person. With a Master's degree in Music Theory under his belt, he was undoubtedly one of the greatest artists of your time.

Eidolonic was Darcy Ray, a renowned jazz musician. Most of his musically-inclined studies focused on classical and modern compositions, artists whose works displayed immense levels of technicality. Learning how to develop complex, moving parts and acquiring impeccable take, he could've easy headed for the neo-classical or progressive rock/metal proving grounds. Instead, he took that complex style and supplemented it with blues and jazz, creating an interestingly complex yet catchy sound. Records flew off the shelves. There wasn't an individual in the world who didn't know the name Darcy Ray.

Unless you're me, or any resident of the icebox known as Caribou's Den. Opting to stay undercover, he became attuned to the fact that musical fluency was not the prime skill of Caribou's Den's citizens. He began writing and recording his newest album here in secret, hoping to launch it here and blow this city (and the world) away.

Instead, he got caught up in this mess. Hopefully he could sway the populace with words instead of music, and one day release that swell new album.

Eidolonic was a TOWN VANILLA.

He lacked any special powers, aside from being able to talk during the day and having a lynch vote to make free use of.

Eidolonic was a LOYAL CUSTOMER, and thus held Caribou's Den's best interests at heart. He would achieve victory with his fellow cafegoers when all threats to the safety and stability of Caribou's Den were eliminated.

Trying to keep count here. Backman, Lauren, Ray. Three of the nine so far, and I saw four men killing the Commander.

"We know two are in the sewers, and two are on the streets," Lyncroft added. "I'll call Lowell, have him send some officers into the sewers to catch them. They're probably lost down there, and that'll make for an easy catch." We ducked into a nearby alleyway while Lyncroft made a phone call. Lowell didn't answer.

"That's unnerving," I said.

"Tell me about it." Lyncroft paused to catch his breath - all this running was a bit much for the old man. "Alright, let's just run down there and get organized. We stand no chance with everyone split up."

The two of us bolted into the streets, knocking people out of the way as we dashed to the police station. Our running was interrupted as a building next to us suddenly exploded, going up in flames almost immediately. Screams came from within. Clearly not an accidental fire - those weren't very common around here.

We stood and waited, with some onlookers yelling at us to help. There was nothing we could do - the police or fire department's phone lines were cut. Instead, we soon saw SupahKiven walk out of the burning building unharmed. His hair was greasier than usual, his hands visibly singed, dressed in a different fashion than normal.

"About done with this stupid freezer of a city," he growled, making no effort to hide the malice in his voice. "Just gonna collect my pay and go. The feds will be looking for me, you know."

"I'll put you down like a dog," Lyncroft responded. "Clever move, being disguised as a regular. That secret's out now, though."

"What are you gonna do?" SupahKiven yelled back, brandishing a flaming bottle of alcohol. "They haven't caught me in years, and you certainly won't catch me now!"

Breaking away from the events, I apologize for how long this summary is. He really was the biggest driving force for criminal activity in the group, and the police here in Whitewash had an extensive record on the man. At least he's a visible fugitive once again, and maybe the authorities will catch him soon.

SpoilerShow

Being an outlaw on the run is not an easy or glamorous lifestyle. Anyone who says so deserved to be shot.

His long history as a fugitive on the run began years ago in Silver Hills, back when the town was infested with petty crime. When he fell out of a job and couldn't feed his daughter Danielle, the local courts threatened to take her away and put her in custody of her uncle - a man he personally knew as abusive and sexually predatorial. In an effort to avoid losing his home and beloved daughter, he resorted to stealing to make ends meet. This worked until he was caught, requiring him to evade arrest to in order to keep custody of his daughter. He took Danielle on the road with him for a few weeks, only to be arrested and forced to watch as her uncle took her away.

Soon enough, he broke out of jail and went after the uncle. Prison and exposure to crime, however, had changed him. No longer did he consider the legal, correct course of action of a custody battle. He walked into his brother's home and shot the man dead, taking back his daughter (who, in a statement issued by him, never seemed quite right again). The inseparable father and daughter pair fled from cops, only to be arrested and separated again - this time, for good.

It was during that last prison stay that SupahKiven, known as Conleth Tephra, learned the art of arson. With help from a fellow inmate skilled in the dances of fire, he soon torched the prison to the ground and started running again, hoping someday to find his daughter. No police officer matches his newfound, fiery combat skills. He needed money to finance his travels, which he could not attain legally. He thus attempted to break into the bank vaults of Caribou's Den, only to meet the man he was stealing from and the barrel of his gun. Instead of arrest or death, he struck a last-minute deal to keep him unchained, and thus became an important and powerful hand in a brewing criminal organization designed to help its participants achieve their end goals.

First, he burned down Salazar's butcher shop to send a statement to the resisting local businesses. Now, he's hellbent on burning down all of Caribou's Den and torching law enforcement if it means hiding the evidence - a goal his comrades were more than happy to help with, provided his skills helped their goals, too.

SupahKiven was a MAFIA PUBLIC ROLESTOPPER.

Each night, he could choose a player's house and burn to the ground. With their house on fire, the player would be rendered immune to any and every other night action targeting them (including death-inducing action). The arson, however, had a few drawbacks: he clearly couldn't burn a house down twice, and it's difficult to do something like that unknowingly. The action would be publicly announced the next morning, but neither the target nor the public would be informed of the nature of the housefire.

SupahKiven was aligned with the METROPOLITAN MALCONTENTS, and would have won when their combined forces overpowered the upstanding loyal citiziens and cafegoers in Caribou's Den to achieve their nefarious goals.

Some of these characters are a little too close to home, if you ask me. Makes me glad Silver Hills shaped up in time. I can't fathom having lived within proximity of such a man.

Back to what happened now.

Conleth, clearly not too pleased with Lyncroft and I making it out alive, flung his molotov cocktail at us. I shoved Lyncroft to the side and dove with him, narrowly dodging the projectile. Conleth soon fled the scene, knowing his attack failed and he had now drawn attention to himself no emergency fire could snuff out. Instead, his flaming bottle of death struck a civilian, who was now running about on fire, screaming in agony.

OzTheWizard appeared out of what seemed to be thin air, followed closely by Druplesnubb. The two gave me a wave, letting me know they made it out alive and alright. Surprisingly well equipped for the event, they put a fire blanket over the burning civilian to save her. I was relieved to see everyone left had made it out alive. Perhaps we stood a chance of apprehending some of them.

That is, until the next moment. Two gunshots rang out in the middle of the day, and both of them fell dead. There was no time to contemplate anything as a car soon drove up and over the dead bodies, killing the burning woman beneath its tires as well. The driver pulled out a gun and started firing at the two of us, and we took refuge behind a parked car. Bullets continued to rain on our position for some time.

"Vincent," Lyncroft said. "Before anything else happens, I want you to have this." He handed me a slip of paper, folded in half. "If I don't make it and you need a way out, just read that. You're good at dealing with crooks; you were a former police officer, after all. I trust you to get out alive, if anyone has to."

"Lyncroft, please, don't talk like that," I pleaded. "You can't die yet, we have to both make it out. I can't let you die, of anyone in this city. You have more family than I do-"

"You've been hospitable to me," I responded. "I think you're like family, even if I disagree with how you went about trying to solve these crimes. Let's get out alive and get these criminals. Do it right before it gets any worse."

"Vincent, don't freak out," Lyncroft said. "I'm going to throw that man out of the car if it means losing my life. We're pinned down, and I'm going to at least get you out of this."

"Before you go."

"What?"

"Tell me whatever you know about those who just died."

"Last names are Rask and Paul. Whitewash City's police department will help you. I have contacts there, just mention your name and my name and they'll help you. Now, let's go."

I looked up the fallen regulars. Here are their profiles - another one from Silver Hills, believe it or not.

SpoilerShow

They didn't call her the Loose Cannon Paramedic for no reason.

She's not registered to practice medicine, yet she openly does it in defiance of the law. Her unusual situation stems from one fateful day at medical school, where in the interest of saving lives, she took a great risk.

As a medical student, her track record was impeccable. Not a missed lesson, never a failed test or assignment, always a 4.0 grade point average. She was well on track to graduate with all sorts of honors and a prestigious degree, up until she decided to break a rule or two. In one spectated surgery, the doctor made a nearly fatal mistake that threw the patient's life into danger. When the doctor refused help and didn't let anyone intervene, she leaped into action and took over the surgery, saving the patient's life.

The school, unsatisfied with her egregious rulebreaking, had her promptly expelled just a few months before she got her degree. It was in the following year that she became known as "Lonestar" Abelone Rask.

To prove her worth as a doctor, she would intercept emergency calls and answer them herself. Without her intervention, countless individuals may have died of cuts, poisonings, heart attacks, gunshot wounds, the whole nine yards. Police soon came bearing down on her, and thus she fled to a place no sensible law enforcement official would follow her to: Caribou's Den. Here, she was able to properly perform duties as an EMT, where the law didn't know her past.

OzTheWizard was a TOWN DOCTOR.

During each Night phase, Oz could select a target. The target would be protected from attempts on their life. Additionally, due to an undying dedication to saving lives, Oz's nightly protection target was also granted bonus protection from daykills the following morning.

OzTheWizard was a LOYAL CUSTOMER, and thus held Caribou's Den's best interests at heart. He would achieve victory with his fellow cafegoers when all threats to the safety and stability of Caribou's Den were eliminated.

SpoilerShow

There are plenty of reasons for someone to go on a tourism excursion - sightseeing, most notably. What would someone want to go see in Caribou's Den, though? The answer lies in food. Food tourism was an endeavor he found rather worthwhile, and he was always in pursuit of the perfect hamburger, after all.

Druplesnubb was Ian Paul, a food tourist visiting the city. He learned of Salazar's shop through a close friend who had passed through the city some time ago. While he initially procrastinated on making the journey, having a close friend of his disappear one day made him plan the trip in a short amount of time. Thus he took the harrowing drive out to this wasteland and opted to stay a few days to try out the other meat shops - only for Salazar's shop to become an ash tray the next morning.

While he sat around and tried the other food places Caribou's Den had to offer, he felt cheated having failed to try Salazar's hamburger before Demetrius was incinerated. To that end, he thus pledged to stay in Caribou's Den and hunt down those responsible - and maybe get a few free meals out of the deal.

Druplesnubb was a TOWN VANILLA.

He lacked any special powers, aside from being able to talk during the day and having a lynch vote to make free use of.

Druplesnubb was a LOYAL CUSTOMER, and thus held Caribou's Den's best interests at heart. He would achieve victory with his fellow cafegoers when all threats to the safety and stability of Caribou's Den were eliminated.

Lyncroft, in his old age, did perhaps the most amazing thing I had ever seen an officer do. He got up from behind our makeshift cover and dove at the vehicular gunman, ripping the weapon out of his hand. Lyncroft opened the door and threw Affle to the ground, getting in the driver's seat of the car.

"Get in!" he shouted. I leapt over Affle, who missed grabbing my ankle, and got in the passenger side of the car. We closed the doors and drove off, leaving our assailant swearing in the streets.

"Nice one," I congratulated Lyncroft. I put the documentation and business records in the car between the pages of my journal, hoping they were incriminating of these crooks. The car was littered with wrenches and various car parts, and several cans of emptied spray paint. Interesting mobile workstation.

We drove the car over to the police station, snapping the key off in the ignition so nobody could use it. The two of us ran up and into the police station, calling for Lowell to help us in this time of need.

Lowell didn't respond. He was instead sitting calmly at the front desk, a gun held to his head, the phone line next to him cut and destroyed. A sinister and oddly professional voice came from the man holding him hostage: Donald Mahler himself. Tall, lean, and well-dressed, all I could do was stare at the white-haired devil himself as he made his first move.

"Don't move a muscle."

Without any further words, Mahler flicked his wrist upwards and deftly shot Lyncroft in the head. The old police chief fell to the ground without another word, dead on the spot.

"Nice to finally meet you again, Mister Blanchard." Mahler stepped forward and extended a hand to greet me, his gun-toting arm still fixated on Lowell's head. "I don't particularly appreciate what you've done, Vincent. And I can't let that go. It's business, certainly you're familiar with it."

I said nothing.

"You deserve to know what's going on, first of all." Mahler stepped behind Lowell again, with Acionyx and Cat soon joining him at his sides.

"A huge thanks to Officer Grover here, who made a lot of this possible. And he's pretty good at hiding bodies, too." I had to avoid letting a 'you bastard' escape my lips. I absolutely refused to give in to Mahler's icy, under-the-skin tone which was engineered to fluster me into attacking him. He was vulnerable and weak without a gun, but his allies surrounded him on all sides. It was bait at its finest.

I still couldn't hide my rage. Acionyx drove discussion in the cafe, and he was even a police officer. A corrupted one, at that. And I saw him admiring his appearance that night I slept in the police station, believe it or not. I knew he was sketchy. I should've taken it upon myself to eliminate him.

Damn it.

SpoilerShow

Woe betide the day Markus Grover acquired power in Caribou's Den's police force.

Acionyx joined the force at the ripe young age of 18, eager to defend and fight for the city he grew up in. Life on the force soon proved to be less than glamorous. Even after the rigors of police training, his fellow recruits and senior officers (all older than him, mind you) repeatedly mocked his slightly sub-par performance. The humiliation soon got to him, and soon reached a point where he'd give anything to be respected by those he was supposed to valiantly serve alongside. A few particularly corrupt recruits devised a rather nasty hazing rituals involving a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli and uncomfortable implementations of a toothbrush and vacuum cleaner bag. The details unknown to anyone but him now, he spent a week a half in the hospital and no amount of hot showering could wash off his shame.

For years, he slowly (yet steadily) climbed the ranks in the force, winning back the respect of those who believed he would fail to achieve anything. All this time, resentment had festered within. He hoped to become the Chief of Police, only to promptly go on a shooting spree unmatched by any other mass murderer in written history that very same day. He managed to make his way to the rank of Lieutenant, giving him some control over operations to help further his vile goal.

He recently received a considerable bribe by some criminals and officials. The terms were clear: help shut down the city and Vincent's potential to aid the force, and in exchange he'd be able to supplant himself as Chief of Police. This way, he could reach the influence needed to go out in a blaze of glory and initiate the actual destruction even sooner. While he was not ready to go all in and kill, control over the arrest process enabled his group to operate quietly and efficiently.

Acionxy was a MAFIA LYNCHJANITOR.

If his vote was on the lynch victim at the end of the day, he had the option to order suppression of information and hide their flip from public view, learning it privately instead. He could not withhold the results of a lynch on consecutive days, and janitoring another target would reveal the prior target's identity publicly.

Acionyx was aligned with the METROPOLITAN MALCONTENTS, and would have won when their combined forces overpowered the upstanding loyal citiziens and cafegoers in Caribou's Den to achieve their nefarious goals.

"You did good, Mister Grover," Mahler continued. "I'd love to put you in as Chief of Police, but I believe our incumbent Lowell here has to finish the requisite paperwork first. Is that right?" Mahler pressed the gun to Lowell's neck, forcing the young Chief of Police to tears. Resentful and scared, Lowell immediately started on the paperwork in front of him to put Grover in as the Chief of Police. "Oh, and Grover? Don't worry about dying. You run the show now. This is our city."

"And I couldn't have done it without my friend here," Mahler said, pointing to Cat. "You were super helpful, you know. Perhaps I'll get you a much better job instead of the one you have, hm?"

"It'd be an honor," Cat replied, her usual terse self.

SpoilerShow

To her teammates, she was only known as The Henchman. Despite the obvious gender conflict, Cat took to the shorthand name without much of an issue. Not to mention it helped the disinformation campaign.

An unnamed, cloaked individual in employ of Donald Mahler, she served one purpose for the Mafia: to act as the representation and executor of Mahler's wishes. Through her, Mahler's will was done. To protect Mahler's integrity and to help protect her own, a disinformation order was put into the police force's system to prevent her true identity from ever being revealed. There were no links or ties that could possibly be traced back to her relatives or Mahler himself - any 'evidence' the police could produce would be superficial at best and would never hold up in a court of law.

Mahler understood the importance of everyone's skills in their respective and general missions, and thus he sent her to keep tabs on who remained alive and who died. Should anyone die, she could contact Mahler and hire a hitman specialized in any skill the members of the Mafia possessed - that way, death would not be a setback. As an additional bonus, she also managed to confiscate a few stray weapons from someone. A lucky sign-on bonus for her teammates.

She the tools for the job, and that's all that matters. Not a name, not a face - just a purpose.

Cat was a MAFIA BACKUP JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES.

Whenever a member of the Mafia was killed by any means, Cat would acquire a one-shot copy of their active power.

The Metropolitan Malcontents also had two free daykills available should their numbers wind up considerably thinned. If she was one of the last two Mafia members alive, she could trade a daykill for a second shot of any power acquired or used.

Cat was aligned with the METROPOLITAN MALCONTENTS, and would have won when their combined forces overpowered the upstanding loyal citiziens and cafegoers in Caribou's Den to achieve their nefarious goals.

I heard a car pull up outside. Looks like Lyncroft and I couldn't shake Affle off our tails. He walked back in, tossing a small handheld radio to Mahler as he entered.

"Forgot this when we killed that shotgun toting maniac," Affle said. "Anyway, how's everyone doing?"

"We're alive and they're dead," Mahler laughed. "Shame we couldn't hold on to that animal rights activist. She's against my business as an industrial meatpacking executive, however. She had to go sooner or later."

"I wish I got the chance to torch her after all of this," SupahKiven said as he stumbled in.

They bantered back and forth for some time, holding me awkwardly hostage. In this time, I gleaned the story of the last of the criminals - a petty one hired as an extra pair of eyes.

SpoilerShow

In a city run by the market, businesses are bound to flourish. Not all businesses, however, had to be law-abiding. Although the crime rate in Caribou's Den was very low, the serenity and general lackadaisicality of the city tended to draw in a few subtle crooks to do their business. Incidences like the burning of the meat shop were unheard of, but Julian Parker knew the world of subtle crime very well.

Affle was one of Caribou's Den's small-time criminals, masquerading as a car dealership owner in the city. While all the ice on the streets made it very hard for him to sell cars, it instead meant there was plenty of repair business to capitalize upon. One of his numerous small deceptions included putting small RFID chips in people's bumpers when you replaced them, allowing him to track the movement of cars throughout the city. He maintained an extensive database of Caribou's Den's motor vehicles, whose informational capacity far surpassed that of the local Department of Motor Vehicles.

Tracking all of the cars in the city gifted him with insight into the traffic patterns and parking habits of people - information which helped him run the criminal business that supplemented his income. He took to the streets at night, chauffeuring his customers. The customer, upon seeing something on someone else's car they liked, deftly pointed to the object. He'd park his car, get out, and steal that piece right off the car - selling it for a modest price. Hub caps, hood ornaments, decals and the like. If they didn't take the given deal, he would put it on the shelves in his legal store and - more often than not - the very person it was stolen from would buy it as a replacement.

The recent explosion of violent crime had kicked the police force into action, an occurrence he despised. It made it much harder for him to operate undercover. Luckily, those involved in the crimes needed a few helping hands, and they asked him to come aboard.

Affle was a MAFIA VOYEURISTIC TRACKER.

During the Night cycle, he could opt to hop in his car and tail someone, learning who they visited during the night. His driving was very good - however, due to the icy conditions and traffic patterns of the night, he ran the risk of being spotted. Those he tracked would be informed a car drove by them during the night.

Affle was aligned with the METROPOLITAN MALCONTENTS, and would have won when their combined forces overpowered the upstanding loyal citiziens and cafegoers in Caribou's Den to achieve their nefarious goals.

The Metropolitan Malcontents also had one other feature: they could secretly communicate during the day via a small, UltraRich-owned radio. Before the start of each Day, they would plant the radio unknowingly on someone. If that person died, the radio would be destroyed and the Mafia would lose access to daychat communications. Its purpose would not be announced upon being revealed and destroyed.

If Stiqqery cloaked the person who would come to hold the radio and they died, the radio would not be revealed to the public upon being destroyed.

I tried to flee. I was blocked. Mahler soon had the gun aimed at me. "Any last words, Vincent?"

I looked at the slip of paper that Lyncroft gave me before. I had to resist letting a smile spread across my face. I knew how to catch Mahler out.

"I hear your wife's having a child," I said, referencing the fact on the slip of paper.

"That's correct," Mahler said. "Said to be a beautiful baby boy. I'm looking forward to a break from this business. It's stressful."

"I have two daughters, you know."

"Charming."

"It'd be horrible if they didn't have a father."

"Real terrible." Mahler's voice was growing frustrated. He knew I was on to something. I had to reach the point before he shot me out of desperation.

"It'd also be horrible if you never had a son."

"Good thing that's not the truth, Vincent."

"Lyncroft was on to you, you know?" I broke out. No time for subtlety. "He knew you were pulling the strings all along. You struck a deal with Conleth, and soon recruited a lot of other people to help you out now that you've turned into a mafia boss. You've destroyed families and lives out here, you know that? And the last one you want to destroy is my family. Good thing it's arranged that if I die, someone's on site to kill your wife and child."

"They'll never know you're dead," Mahler growled, his outstretched arm shaking as his finger moved to the trigger. "They can't kill my family if they don't get the signal. Nothing leaves this city without my approval, Vincent."

"I've been writing every day to this person," I said. "There's a special phrase in each letter to indicate I'm alive. You can cover up my death all you like, but there's a way they'll know. Look at yourself, Mahler. Look at the people you've surrounded yourself with to achieve your bastard, criminal goals. Their families are broken or unheard of. And you've broken families up, too. From the literal - Salazar - to the metaphorical, like the bond Lyncroft and I formed."

"Lyncroft's fucking dead!" I yelled, barely able to contain myself. "He's right here. Whose idea was it to hunt you down? His, and his alone. This was never my idea. I came out to this icy metropolis so I could support my damn family, not to get killed for the law. I quit that a long time ago. So you rule the city, you've destroyed all that was good about this place. Fine by me. Shoot Lyncroft, shoot Lowell, kill them all. But leave the man who only cared about his family the whole damn time alone. I won't say a damn thing, you know me well enough."

Mahler froze, and promptly dropped his gun. His composure was lost, and with pure, unmodified anger and resentment in his voice, spoke to me for the last time.

"Get the fuck out of here."

I turned around and left, shoving Julian out of the way. I walked back to the remains of my cafe, looking for a few minutes before I got in my car and drove off. I passed by the police station and gave them the finger one last time.

I made up all of that about having his wife and child lined up to be killed, for the record. Lyncroft simply told me about that event in his slip of paper, and it gave me a shot at otherwise indestructible, undefeatable Mahler. His weakness was his family.

I suppose we're not too much different, huh? Doesn't matter any more. A quarter of a million dollars to my family, at the cost of lives and safety for the citizens of a great city. I feel some guilt about it. I could've done more, but ultimately, it was out of my control. They're not of my concern.

I drove out here to Whitewash to lay low, and tonight I drive home to my family. I haven't written in days, they must be anxious. And once I get home, where it's warm outside for once, none of this will matter to me. Those heartless bastards will do as they please, with impunity. The citizens of Caribou's Den now face dark days, their new criminal leaders nothing more than petty fools nobody thought to stop.

Just a bunch of bastards ruling with iron fists.

And frozen hearts.

-V.B.

The Syndicate

Vincent watched the pages burn.

A few days after his return home, he decided to destroy all that remained of his excursion to Caribou's Den. Copies of the books Lyncroft gave him, the business records of Julian Parker, even his own journal - all of it went up in flames. He hated giving into the fires of destruction, the very thing that fueled all of this in the first place. It was Mahler's only victory against him - defeating his very will to stand up for the city.

Without a word, he closed the opening and sealed the flames within. The fuzzy orange light illuminated his wrinkled face and white hair. The stress of it all had aged him just a bit.

All he had left was a little black binder. Within were the documentations for a case Vincent pursued before he lost his job as investigator for hire: the disappearance of Diana Ultramanious. Perhaps he'd go back to that case. Another day, he thought. His wife and daughters called to him. He needed family time.

Outside, a storm was brewing. It was about fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit, unseasonably warm for this time of year. The sky was dark and stormy, despite it only being roughly four in the afternoon. It was a stark contrast to the feeling of freedom Vincent felt as his days in Caribou's Den burned in the flames of his basement furnace. It was, however, a herald to what was about to come.

Vincent was followed home. Someone still had business with Vincent. Mister Visceral walked up to his front door, no car in sight, nothing to indicate he had travelled. He checked the lock, found the front door was open, and slipped inside. This mission evaded him for too long, and it had to be done now.

Bang. Bang. Two gunshots fired.

"Wait, what was that? ... What the fuck? Who are you? What the fuck did you do to my children?"

Bang.

A woman's scream is heard. It is promptly silenced.

Bang.

The sounds of a camera go off. Moments later, Mister Visceral walks out of the house, carrying a small black binder.

Keeping Diana's kidnapping a secret was never the intention. The daughter to the richest man on earth is swept away in the middle of an isolated forest, and expecting her father to keep quiet is a foolish train of thought. The best that can be done is to keep it from spreading too much - a mission at which the organization that employed her failed to do. A certain Vincent Blanchard was hired and he has learned too much. It's time for him to die.

That's why a man named Nikolas (he never gave her a last name, oddly enough) hired her, Katherine Venancio, to carry out a hit. She was a high-profile killer for hire, noted for her incredible documentation of her killings that she had sold as black market novels. While she'd been arrested and jailed for stints, she never failed to perform a murder. With the truth behind Diana's kidnapping contained in a black binder carried by Vincent at all times, he had to die.

She was thusly hired by the Ouroboros Syndicate, a massive underground network of organized criminals who arranged Diana's kidnapping. Her kidnapping would be a means of stealing her fortune to fund weapons projects. She was promptly deployed to kill Vincent, and came very close to carrying it out before he left for Caribou's Den. She even managed to silently murder his next door neighbor and observe his life for the perfect kill... only for Vincent to leave town the next morning. She followed him up the highway and through Whitewash City to Caribou's Den, only for him to start living in the city. After a quick hotel room reservation to get him on his return commute home, he ended up living in the business he now managed. On top of that, some bastard stole your two long-range guns, and she lacked the means to kill him. The Syndicate had since abandoned her, but she refused to give up on her goal.

After a late-night phone call with Nikolas, he offered to provide the Syndicate's utmost level of protection provided she got back to killing. She waited for this crime spree business to blow over. Either way it ends, she would have a very clear shot at killing Vincent. Infiltrating his business as one of the regulars was easy, but without any weapon to kill, she wasn't going to prove she deserved Syndicate protection. She instead found a way to fool Nikolas: by documenting people in the night and hoping they get killed by the criminals, she would submit fake murder reports to convince the Syndicate she was able to perform her duties and kill Vincent eventually. All she had to do was bide her time until this was all over. Vincent would then be hers to kill with impunity.

Mister Visceral was an INDEPENDENTLY ALIGNED ORACLE SURVIVOR.

Each night, he could name a person he suspected would die to the Mafia's nightkill and send a photograph of the victim to Nikolas. If that person died during the night, the Syndicate would extend their protection on you, granting him a one-shot bulletproof that would last for the next two night cycles.

If he guessed incorrectly, the target would be informed they had a photo of them taken.

Mister Visceral would achieve his win condition if he managed to stay alive until either the Town or Mafia wins, at which point he could then carry out his nefarious mission successfully.

Mister Visceral has WON.

Katherine puts the phone to her ear. "The job's done, Nikolas."

"Excellent work, Katherine. Head back to Whitewash, we've got more hits for you."

"Names?"

"Ivan Vasillich and Thaddeus Archibald."

"...Wait," Katherine paused. "The second one. Isn't that the name of-"

"No time for questions. Get to killing."

--

METROPOLITAN MALCONTENTS (Mafia) have WON.
MISTER VISCERAL (Third Party) has WON.

LOYAL CUSTOMERS (Town) have LOST.

THE END.

Cast of Characters

The LOYAL CUSTOMERS

Granolaman as Carl Birkholz, Town Prankster - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/6A8UhV3Fe6SA
Garuru as Commander Blaine Backman, Town Recharging Bulletproof/Day Vigilante - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/G2Lrr5GB5Gw45
makerofthegames as Adam Salazar, Town Voyeuristic Watcher - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/f2KZH7vrEkw
OzTheWizard as Abelone "Lonestar" Rask, Town Cycle Doctor - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/UfNXN8n7kJJB
Stiqqery as Amon Viceroy, Town Cloaker - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/CY2ii3AG56Lh
icanhasdonut as The Trash King, Town Voyeurmaker - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/KWKhdp2SJgxcG
Speedchuck as Eleanor Barton, Town Messenger - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/avNArmhAFVrgS
Mirdini as Officer Colton Hawthorne, Town One-Shot Lynchproof - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/Y7NPCSgTnSF3

Affle v1 as Wallace the Weatherman - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/3yTfyJpHuDbw
Truegreen/Druplesnubb v2 as Ian Paul - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/F74Up6LhYiVP
Druplesnubb v1 as Benjamin Lowell - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/q9yHqYEKvzPxU
Palamedes as Rolph Lauren - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/EbQF7ZfijwY
Ginx-sama/Eidolonic as Darcy Ray - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/6rMXrTBRVTEMS

The METROPOLITAN MALCONTENTS

ElectroMan/SupahKiven as Conleth Tephra, Mafia Public Rolestopper - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/x6aCcpccSQi
smash ball as Natalie Bealtaine, Mafia Flavor-Empowered Hitwoman - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/UxRygn9wrqAi
Acionyx as Lieutenant Markus Grover, Mafia Lynchjanitor - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/rjkucraLNpK7
Schazer/Affle v2 as Julian Parker, Mafia Voyeuristic Tracker - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/sP8dV5jKmTi
Cat as The Henchman, Mafia Backup Jack-of-all-Trades - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/s3m2kkVtiHc6y

The OUROBOROS SYNDICATE

Mister Visceral as Katherine Venancio, Third Party Oracle Survivor - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/ZdLsDbgjZLYa

BONUS QUICKTOPICS

Scumchat - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/fHGrxqM3CDD3
Deadchat - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/ChDGDXcxssWAi
Planning/Moderator Quicktopic - https://www.quicktopic.com/50/H/BjuajcRjQkND

Night Actions

Night actions which impacted flavor tidbit sharing have clarifying notes written next to them.

Day One

Druplesnubb is lynched

Night One

Granolaman places a field of banana peels between makerofthegames and Garuru
SupahKiven burns down Acionyx's house

icanhasdonut breaks a cocktail of sewage over the head of Granolaman (Granolaman is told he now smells terrible)
Stiqqery hides Schazer (Schazer's target will not be informed a car followed them that night)

Mister Visceral fails to submit his death prediction :c

OzTheWizard protects Acionyx (Acionyx gains no protection, as the fire blocks night actions)

smash ball murders Garuru (due to Maker's watching, smash ball is told he smells meat, which grants him the ability to make a brutal murder attempt the next night)

speedchuck sends a message to Mirdini:

"Hello. I know what you did. You boldly got a townie killed, monster. Some might think you town, Iron Balls, but I'm not falling for your shi"

Schazer tracks Mirdini (Due to Stiq's cloaking, Mirdini is not alerted to this action. Mirdini did not visit anyone that night.)
makerofthegames watches Garuru (makerofthegames slips on a banana peel. smash ball visited Garuru that night.)

Garuru loses his bulletproof protection and gains a one-shot daykill attempt

Day Two

Mafia places the radio on Garuru

Garuru daykills smash ball

Acionyx janitors the lynch of Speedchuck

Night Two

Granolaman places a field of banana peels between makerofthegames and Mirdini
SupahKiven burns down icanhasdonut's house

icanhasdonut breaks a cocktail of sewage over the head of Garuru (Garuru is told he smells terrible.)
Stiqqery hides makerofthegames (makerofthegames will not give off a meat scent to those who visit his target tonight.)

Mister Visceral predicts makerofthegames will die (Mister Visceral gains a one-shot bulletproof that lasts until Day Five.)

OzTheWizard protects makerofthegames

Acionyx murders Mirdini
Cat inherits smash ball's powers, and opts to brutally murder makerofthegames as the meat scent (Kill succeeds, overriding protection.)

Schazer does not track anyone.
makerofthegames watches Garuru (No impact, cloaked and killed in the night.)

Day Three

Mafia plants the radio on Stiqqery

icanhasdonut is lynched

Night Three

Granolamans places a field of banana peels between Garuru and Palamedes
SupahKiven burns down Affle's house

Stiqqery hides Garuru

Mister Visceral does not predict anyone's death.

OzTheWizard protects Garuru

Acionyx kills Mister Visceral (The kill bounces. Mister Visceral loses his one-shot bulletproof.)

Schazer tracks OzTheWizard (OzTheWizard is informed a car drove by him during the night. OzTheWizard visited Garuru.)

Day Four

Mafia plants the radio on Truegreen

Acionyx janitors the lynch of Palamedes (Speedchuck's identity is revealed.)

Night Four

Granolamans places a field of banana peels between Acionyx and Garuru
SupahKiven burns down Druplesnubb's house

Stiqqery hides Granolaman (Nobody will slip on banana peels tonight.)

Mister Visceral predicts Cat's death (Cat is told someone took a photo of her during the night.)

OzTheWizard protects Acionyx

Acionyx kills Affle

Schazer tracks nobody

Day Five

Mafia plans the radio on Eidolonic

Granolaman is lynched

Night Five

SupahKiven burns down OzTheWizard's house

Stiqqery hides Mister Visceral (Mister Visceral's target, if they survive, is not informed a picture of them was taken during the night.)

Mister Visceral predicts Stiqqery's death

OzTheWizard protects Druplesnubb

Acionyx kills Stiqqery (Mister Visceral gains a one-shot bulletproof that lasts until Day Eight.)

Affle tracks nobody

Day Six

Mafia plants the radio on Garuru

Garuru is lynched. With 8 people alive and 4 of them being aligned with the Mafia, the Mafia overruns the town.
With the Mafia achieving their win condition and the Survivor is alive, Mister Visceral achieves their win condition.
Town fails to eliminate the threat of the Mafia, and fails to achieve their win condition.

Mod Notes

What a game this was. It's undergone a lot of revision since I first drafted the concept back in December (refined by the record-breaking winter in the States this year) and now it's done well into the summer.

I decided to take a different approach with the flavor, writing in first person instead of the usual third-person omniscient that's been seen in just about every other Mafia game I run. I liked the journal as a framing device, and it seems everyone else immensely enjoyed reading it.

Setup-wise, there was a lot of risk for certain roles to spiral out of control in power - yet few roles got there. The setup was designed to have a lot of odd pseudo-information roles and voyeuristic roles meant to generate confusion, and the game succeeded in that regard. There was less discussion about camera flashes and banana peels than I anticipated, but it worked out in the end.

As for performance; not much to say that hasn't been said. Town did how they did, I applaud the mafia for keeping their morale and resolve in the face of daykills and watchers, and I want to give special acknowledgement to Mister Visceral, who did a good job surviving to the end (and got full use out of his role!).

Thanks for joining me in yet another tale filled with deceit and death. If you're looking for a more lighthearted experience, I'll be running a for-laughs game off site with time travel antics and all. Interested parties should let me know.

Perhaps I'll have another flavorful closed setup awaiting you folks again next June. Until then, good luck in your scumhunting endeavors!

Firstly, excellent job scum team, sorry I couldn't pull my weight.

Secondly was Vic just a very anti-town ghost or something that everyone forgot about

E: Whoopsie I should read more than the last post in-thread

And of course Oz was the daykill protection that I was worried about

Too bad he was first in line to be shot when we reached that point~

Pfffbbt

This whole game, you guys. This whole game.

Granola is going to be pissed when he wakes up.

But for real excellent flavour, TehPilot (and I don't know beans about setups but for a lot of power roles it seemed balanced? Scum were definitely fretting early-game about what the town were packing if we had all the crap we did). Awful, gut-wrenching flavour, but excellent flavour. Thanks for hosting!

There were three town on the Granola lynch?! Really?

Imagine how all of us in deadchat felt.

Hopefully now people won't just follow the guy who only posts before they called out as being suspicious.

But seriously, well played scumteam, you guys really deserved the win here.

@Druple: That's what happens when you accuse more-or-less everyone who picks holes in your argument of being scum trying to discredit you. Even when "more-or-less everyone" is basically all the active players who cannot possibly all be scum.

This is also why I went on a lurker massacre as a vague approximation of town leader in Bookfia midgame. Not, uh, that you should use anything I do as an example of good mafia play.

Imagine how all of us in deadchat felt.

Hopefully now people won't just follow the guy who only posts before they called out as being suspicious.

But seriously, well played scumteam, you guys really deserved the win here.

The granola lynch had way less to do with effective misleading than it had to do with him antagonizing people instead of convincing them

But for real excellent flavour, TehPilot (and I don't know beans about setups but for a lot of power roles it seemed balanced? Scum were definitely fretting early-game about what the town were packing if we had all the crap we did). Awful, gut-wrenching flavour, but excellent flavour. Thanks for hosting!

Thanks for the comments! I'm really proud of this game. I'll talk more about the flavor and setup when I get to writing up my mod notes, but I will go ahead and say that I don't think this game could've run better mechanically. Most power roles, save for a few (Donut's and town's protectives I think?) did mechanically impact the game, which is actually pretty impressive. I never expected it to run as smoothly as it did.

to quote dini
"wow look at his SPOOKY role he must be scum"
good job scum
less so town