ROUND 1 - Ethan goes potty (Mafia Hit) IN CHARACTER
There were twenty five customers and a handful of bank staff standing around in the lobby of the US Bank, including Agent Ethan Hill and the bank manager, Mr. Green. No joke…that was his name. Ethan looked down at the impeccably dressed manager and took note of his suit and the high polish on his expensive Italian leather shoes. Mr. Green could not be anything but a banker. Ethan wasn’t sure if he was imagining the smell of old dollar bills emitting from the fiftyish (trying to look fortyish) man. He tried to ignore the little details and pushed on with his conversation with the manager.
‘How big is this place?’
‘Five thousand square feet.’
‘How big?’ Ethan’s eyes opened wide as he listened to the banker repeat the square footage. Looking around in the lobby, he would’ve never guessed just how big the building actually was. Great at psychology, horrible in math, holding his hand up, Ethan stopped Mr. Green and thought deeply.
‘We should get away from the windows. Admin offices up stairs?’
‘Yes.’ Mr. Green thought ahead. ‘There is the conference room on the third floor. ‘ Thoughtfully, he added, ‘There are only four floors.’
‘Well, let’s gather everyone up there then.’
The crowd moved quickly up the emergency stairs – the elevators were on emergency shut down – and Ethan did his best to explain the situation as best as he could. They should try to procure some food and water and get comfortable. Report any medical issues, but not to panic.
Easier said than done, he knew this.
With a firm voice, he encouraged everyone to pick groups and accomplish the simple tasks. Suggesting collecting food and water did not go over well for some of the crowd and prompted questions about how long they would have to stay in the bank, which led to more yelling, which led to Ethan raising his voice, which was not what he wanted to do. He did not miss the narrowed eyes and suspicious glares from several members, but what could he do without communication to anyone on the outside.
‘Let’s just try and stay comfortable, everyone. Keep positive and I’m sure they’ll contact us as soon as possible.’
His words floated quietly in the conference room and slowly, one by one, everyone exited. Stopping the manager, he asked for a bathroom. Mr. Green pointed down the hall and headed in the opposite direction.
Ethan managed to find the executive bathrooms, lined with marble floors, shiny silver fixtures, and dark red cherry wood. The bathroom was a hundred times nicer than his own home. It was quiet, save for the barest hint of music filtering in from hidden speakers and the ridiculously large bathroom had just a slight chill. Six urinals that looked suspiciously like more marble lined the far wall, floating crystal bowls on top of more cherry wood lined the wall to the left, and six stalls with toilets to his right. Pushing one of the stalls on his right, he entered and enjoyed the wonderment of the bidet toilet when he heard the bathroom door leading to the hallway open and close softly with soft feet walking to the toilet directly next to him on the right.
Quickly finishing, Ethan exited the stall and nearly ran into another individual.
‘Christ, I’m sorry.’ Ethan gave a nervous laugh. ‘Excuse me.’ He had to side step to get to the sink as the individual smiled, watching him pass.
‘Crazy bathrooms, huh?’ Ethan smiled but the silence stretched with no answer to his nonchalant query and he washed his hands quickly, looking down at the crystal bowl. ‘Some serious money they put into this…’
Looking up into the mirror, the words died in his mouth as he blushed at the sudden appearance of several more individuals in the reflection…behind him.
‘I tell you, on the Day of Judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.â€
‘Wha-?’
Ethan suddenly felt the weight of many hands grab him as he stared stunned at the reflections in the mirror. The thought of grabbing the gun in his holster never occurred to him as he was painfully dragged back to the stall he had just exited and unceremoniously thrown in, banging against the tastefully decorated bidet, his head shoved with force stronger than he thought possible of the individual’s hands into the toilet for a quick dip, as it were.
Another voice filtered in through his gurgling in the toilet bowl’s water. ‘It takes strength of character to kill something innocent and helpless...I believe that I have what it takes!’
This, along with the muzak playing cheerfully in the bathroom was the last thing Special Agent Ethan Hill would hear. Well that and his jaw breaking as he was curbed against the marble of the toilet lid. His red blood swirled in the water as he was left there, half in the toilet bowl. Then a foot came up and hit the flush handle, rinsing away.
‘The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks.’
Well, not so much for Agent Hill. Not anymore.
_________________________
This is how we're going to do it.
So what do the Doctor, Sheriff, and Godfather do?
The Doctor is a townie with the ability to save a life from a mafia hit. At the end of each day, after the lynching, the doctor may submit one name in secret to the mod. At the same time, the mafia will tell the mod who they would like to hit the following morning. If the doctor has selected the person who is meant to be hit by the mafia, the mafia will still attempt the hit, but the player will survive.
*note* The Doctor is permitted to save the same person (including him/herself) no more than twice in one game. We feel this will make games more exciting and dynamic for everyone!
The Sheriff is also a townie. At the end of the day, after the lynching, the Sheriff submits one name to the mod for identification. The mod will then send back a PM to the sheriff that will simply say “mafia†or “not mafiaâ€. The mod will not reveal if a person is the doctor, and in the case of the Godfather the mod will outright lie!
The Godfather enjoys a special status among the mafia. The Godfather’s key responsibility is to submit a name for the mafia hit each night after the lynching. Also, the Godfather has an in with the mod; the mod will send back an ID of “not mafia†should the sheriff ask.
Okay, got it. Now how do I get started?â€
The Mod will post a thread that outlines the basic scenario of the game. This is where the mod will state the date the game will start. Additionally, the mod will post a character/signup thread. In this thread, each player will post both their interest in playing and a character outline. The exact information required for your character will vary according to the scenario; the mod will post the requirements. Creativity in developing your character is encouraged.
When everyone is signed up, with characters created, the mod will begin the game with a mafia hit. The first mafia hit will be a throw away character created by the mod. That evening the town will come together to do their first lynching, which will begin the cycle of lynch, SKID, hit.
Huh? What’s SKID?
SKID is short for Save, Kill, Identify. That is the point of the game where the Sheriff, Doctor, and Godfather submit their names.
We'll do a mafia hit first thing in the morning then I'll need all LYNCH VOTES AND SKIDS (saves, identifies, mafia hits, serial hits, bomber - all possible hits) by 9am the NEXT MORNING. We're not going to do by midnight again. I'm in the rack too early for that =x
PM them directly to me, whoever you are, whatever roles we have.


"Holy Moly! What the hell is going on here?!?"
Mr. Freeman rushes back to the conference room looking ashen and clammy. He looks around the room and each face nervously, as if he's only truly noticing them for the first time.
"That man, Agent Hill...he's been...oh god...he's been busted up...he's such a mess. I think he's dead! Somebody call the police! Who's in charge here?"
Mr. Freeman eyes all of the men in the room suspiciously. "Some man killed the agent! Which one of you did it!?!?"
The old man looks protectively over the young ladies in the room, some the same age as his granddaughters.

"Stupid phone!" she grumbled as she slammed it back in the bag. Her pack of smokes beckoned her, but she wasn't sure what the rest of these people would think if she lit up. It didn't look like she could just open a window any time soon. "Just gets better and better. Shit!"
With a huff, she put her back against the wall and slid down to the floor, curling her knees up to her chest. Daddy never warned her about this kind of situation. When the old man came storming back into the room, raging about someone killing the FBI Agent, she laid her head on her knees. Could it get any worse?

Stuck in a room full of strangers, supposedly under some sort of attack. Yeah, right. The day hadn't started out well, and didn't look like it was going to end well.
Fuck me, I'm double parked.
Then some old man came running in, screaming about someone dying, fear clearly painted on his face. He kinda reminded her of her grandpa. As he stood shaking, Ella walked over to him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Ella watched the news, gobbled up all the information she could. She was used to death and its shock, or so she thought.
"Need a smoke, gramps?"
Ella didn't wait, but lit one up herself, not really caring what the others thought.
If we are under attack, then who the hell cares? If sprinklers go off, then maybe someone out there will pay attention and get us the hell out of here.

The payment for her Stateline was due tomorrow and if she didn't deposited the money by the end of today then she'd be penalized and the interest rate would sky rocket. Just what she fucking needed. She was about to take a seat on the hard marble floor when she heard shouting.
"What the fuck?" she exclaimed.
Someone was dead? Sweet fucking baby kittens, this had to be covered under acceptable late payment qualifications.

“Oy gevalt!” Ruth exclaimed internally. "Why did I decide to join the work force after all these years! I could have been safe, at home, keeping my house and preparing a nice meal! My husband, who will take care of my husband? I had all sons! Oy vey iz mir"
Ruth found a chair, sat down, and let her head fall into her hands.

~Just breathe. One two three four, out two three four. Oh fuck! Why is this happening? Why to me? I just wanted to.. fuck! this is why I don't leave home. Damn it! What am I... just breathe. One two three four, out two three four.~
She hit the corner sooner than expected, distracted by her panicked internal dialogue and focusing on not having a panic attack in the middle of a crowd. Swallowing hard she slipped to the floor, tugged her messenger bag onto her lap and bundled herself up in her coat, hoping that no one would notice how much she was fidgeting, toes tapping within her shoes, her fingers now knit tightly together, so much so that her knuckles would go white as she moved them against each other.
She sat quiet, as much as possible save for her very timed, rhythmic breathing, as the Agent spoke, and remained seated as she watched people leave the room, once more noting how very much they moved like sheep. She pursed her lips, shook her head, and without noticing how many more remained, slipped her hand into her bag and pulled out three sticks of gum. Unwrapping them hastily, she popped each one into her mouth, hoping that would help calm her.
"That man, Agent Hill...he's been...oh god...he's been busted up...he's such a mess. I think he's dead! Somebody call the police! Who's in charge here?"
Myraan looked up, panic full force within her eyes, her heart now racing. She had clutched her bag tight against her throughout the old man's rambling, her eyes now darting suspiciously, and guitily about the room.
~oh fuck! I gotta get out of here! fuck fuck fuck! I'm gonna die! We're all gonna die! Death has come, and it's not gonna let us go! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! take your pills. NOW!~
She clutched her hand against her left temple, and shut her eyes tight, shaking her head, and grunting quietly to herself. She forced her right hand once again into her bag and pulled out a bottle of pills, hoping that no one else would notice as she struggled with herself to open the lid to retrieve her supposed salvation.

Time to make the most of this situation. Nothing like a little tragedy to send the women looking for refuge in the arms of a big, strong man. Joel put on his most reassuring grin.
"Wassup, girl?!"

She dug through her purse trying to find her smokes and figured she'd settle in and wait to see what happened. Surely someone, somewhere would be coming to help. She didn't realize she shaking so bad until she pulled out a cigarette and broke it in half.
Damnit Nichole! Get a grip! Find something to keep you occupied. Maybe there's someone here I could hang with until everything gets figured out.
She looked around the room at all the panic-stricken faces and decided maybe talking to someone wouldn't be such a good idea. She got up to walk across the room to throw the broken cig in the trash and spied a blonde girl hanging back having a smoke too. She didn't look like she was too worked up so she went over to join her.
"Hey there, rough day we're having huh?" she said and lit her cigarette.

~Oh gosh, what if he touches me? What if he has some disease? What if he wants something from you? What if he tries to hurt me? What if he tries to steal your pills? NO!~
She closed her eyes, took a deep cleansing breath, and gathered up two of the spilt pills and popped them into her mouth in a hurry, only to look up in time to see him standing over her. She forced a smile, and it was most certainly forced.

~Oh fuck! He touched me. No, he took one o fyour pills. You fucking little bitch, you can't do anything right! He's talking to me.. talking...? Tell him to go away. NO! Take it back, you need them. I don't want it! But you need.. GET AWAY! Just say hello, act normal, take a breath, one two three four, out two three four...~
Quietly she cleared her throat after her once more pronounced forced controlled breathing. She lowered her eyes, and noticed the pills in her lap, there were several, about five, so she quickly gathered them up and placed them into his hand. "Here, I hope they help you."
~Shouldn't leave home without them. No, you learned that the hard way. I know. I bring them with me now. He's got your pills, what if you need them? What if I am trapped here forever? What if the air goes bad and we start to die, what if we die, all of us? He's watching you. Smile better~
It was then her mind finally seemed to register the fact that he had said hello and introduced himself. While she did not extend her hand in greeting, busying herself instead with putting the bottle of pills away and procuring her bottle of water to get the nasty taste out of her mouth as the pills had begun to dissolve in her throat, she did offer up her name. "I'm Myraan."
"Good to meet you Myraan, thanks for the pills, you've saved my life." He considered her small unassuming person and wondered what she seemed so nervous about. Why was she making funny faces? Yeah somebody had been killed but it wasn't her and was a stranger to all of them....probably some freak with a grudge against law enforcement killed the guy. He shrugged off the thought and considered that at least she has some good pills...and maybe she has other stuff too! He made a mental note that if she ended up in the same shape as Mr. FBI he would definitely be searching her possessions for other possible pharmaceuticals. "You care for a smoke?" he asked as he reached into his pocket and offered her the pack.

With a slight shake of her head, she now smiled a little, mostly at herself. "Sorry. When I'm scared... you know, when I'm having an attack, I talk too much." She cast another glance his way, seemingly seeing him for the first time, noticing his 'ink' and that calmed her even more. Well, it was the pills mostly, but she liked to pretend otherwise.
"Nice ink" she mused aloud as she looked his tattoos over. She was still doing rather well keeping herself covered, hiding her own extensive, and elaborate full body sleeve. "I like the way it feels. Makes the pain worthwhile, you know? To have something so beautiful forever?"

Screw this noise. I'm outta here.
Grabbing her bag and lighting yet another smoke, she sauntered over to the door, gave the room one last scathing look, and left. The hallways was blissfully quiet after the din of the conference room. Grabbing her zune, Ella put on some random tunes.
On the floors of Tokyo / Down in London town's a go-go
With the record selection / And the mirror's reflection
I'm a-dancing with myself
Ella started dancing. The feel of her old worn sneakers against her feet as she walk-danced down the hall was strangely soothing.
She rounded a corner, and suddenly stopped, startled by what was in front of her.

Nicole shugged and finished her smoke and walked back to the other side of the room to her chair. As she sat down she noticed a man and a woman in a deep conversation in the corner and she could swear she saw them pop some pills.
Too bad I gave that stuff up. It'd prolly be nice to have a little buzz going at a time like this.
She reapplied her lip gloss (more out of habit then necessity) and popped a piece of gum in her mouth. As she chewed, she sat back and considered joining the couple in the corner.