WEREWOLF CLASSIC XIV – TEA STRAINERS OF TERROR!
Co-narrator - TigerFang!
After Huxley Moon waxed Aunt Gladys to within an inch of her hirsute life and reclaimed Moon Mansion for the non-lupines, things should have been over for good. But the Moons have never found it easy to agree on anything, and the surviving brothers, aunties, and cousins settled down to a protracted loop of legal wrangling and interfamily arguments, i.e. the things every Moon loves most. With no end in sight, Moon Mansion stands empty and abandoned, Old Man Moons fortune still hidden away in the dusty old attic.
Then Old Man Moon’s oldest friend, Sir Chumleigh Bogsnorkler-Claypigeon, steps in. The old army general calls the remaining family members to Castle Gloom, his ancient and looming abode nestled in the delightfully named Death Mountains, promising to sort out the convoluted mess.
So, on 21st October, the family congregate at the castle, each of them hoping that the senile old gent will approve them as the new owner of the estate. Sir Bogsnorkler-Claypigeon dodders out to meet them, helped by his dour-looking attendant Perkins, and wrapped in a massive fluffy pink duffel coat. While the ex-general looks good for one hundred and eight, it soon becomes clear he has at least three screws loose, and probably a few structural girders too.
“I say, what are all these people doing here?”
“They’re the Moons, sir. You asked them to come here, remember? Arthur Moon died some time ago.”
“He did? Well that would explain why he hasn’t answered any of my letters. Good riddance to the old coot, that’s what I say!”
“He was your best friend sir! You fought in all four world wars together!”
“Of course! Loved the man, a king amongst men! Anyone that says otherwise deserves a thrashing, what!”
“...Indeed sir.”
“Damn straight…who are you again?”
Perkins sighs and turns to the confused relatives.
“I’m sorry about this ladies and gentlemen. The master is a very old man, and while his mind is still strong, sometimes his wits go on an extended vacation. How long have they been away this time, Sir Chumleigh?”
“A bacon tricycle or more I should think.”
“Quite. Do you still have the letter sir?”
The old man ruffles around within the depths of his big pink coat, and eventually clutches a yellowing envelope in his gnarled, shaking hand.
“Found it! Blueprints for a bacon tricycle, of that I have no doubt!”
“I’m afraid such a vehicle doesn’t exist sir.”
“Pity. I’d love a bacon tricycle. Or custard trousers, I’m not fussy.”
Perkins rolls his eyes and shows the Moons the letter. Old Man Moons spidery handwriting can be clearly seen across front.
“Arthur Moon sent this to the master a long time ago, ten years or more. Inside are instructions regarding the division of his estate, in the event of his untimely demise.”
“But we’ve done this before! What was that charlatan of a solicitor Mr Grey doing back at the manor if not this exact thing?”
“Far be it for me to say sirs, but I would surmise that Old Man Moon forgot he ever sent this letter. He was even worse than Sir Chumleigh at the end, so I hear.”
“That’s true enough, I distinctly remember him shouting about frogs on the rug, and that the toilet kept talking to him.”
“Hey, I bought him that Talky-Toilet for his 100th birthday, the old coot was delighted!”
“Never mind that. The letter if you please, my good man.”
Perkins nods and slices open the letter. A slight widening of the eyes is all the emotion he shows as he reads.
“Well I say, this is most unusual!”
“Out with it man!”
“Yes, out with it! My bladder is not capable of withstanding this level of suspense for much longer!”
“Very well. This letter sets out the method that should be used to decide the inheritors of Old Man Moons Estate. The method seems to revolve around these.”
Perkins pulls out a small loop of tape with several coarse dark hairs attached to it.
“The hairs of a werewolf, if this letter is to be believed. I am to prepare a drink for all of you in the dining room, and drop one of these hairs at random into some of the drinks. Anyone who swallows one of the hairs will become a werewolf!”
“Ridiculous!”
“I’m hairy enough already!”
“You think you’ve got it bad? Have you ever seen my back?”
“There’s more. Once every drink has been consumed, you are all to stay here at Castle Gloom until either the werewolves have been hung until dead, or they have slaughtered every non-lycanthropic claimant to the inheritance!”
“What a silly idea! How about if we refuse to go along with this nonsense?”
Perkins scans further down the letter until he finds the correct passage.
“Well, it says here that if Arthur Moon’s dying wishes are not upheld, his fortune and estate will be left to…the commoners!”
“No!”
“Tosh!”
“Piffle!”
“Aardvarks!”
“Well done for joining in Sir Chumleigh. Jolly good show!”
Huxley Moon steps forward, and the rest of the Moons immediately go quiet. Of all the family, only Huxley has the clout and authority to control them for even five seconds so he can have his say. The old inventor saved the family from Aunt Gladys and her hairy offspring last time with his jury-rigged fire extinguishers and silver-coated waxing strips, and earnt the respect of the whole clan.
“It appears to me that we have no choice. I think I speak for all of us when I say that I would rather die at the hands of a rabid werewolf with a tea strainer than see our family’s estate fall into the grubby hands of the great unwashed!”
“Here here!”
“Well said that Moon!”
“Did you have to mention the tea strainer again Huxley? I still have nightmares…”
Perkins smiles and turns back to Sir Bogsnorkler-Claypigeon, who seems to have completely lost track of proceedings.
“Would you like to welcome our guests to the castle Sir Chumleigh?”
“Guests? I didn’t want guests I wanted custard trousers! Who are these people?”
Perkins sighs and starts to lead the old man inside, beckoning for the rest to follow.
“You’d best come in or else we’ll be looping like this all day. Sometimes Sir Chumleigh has bad days. Most of the time he has very bad days. Huxley…do you think you could invent some custard trousers, maybe? Just to keep the master happy?”
“Sorry my good man, I’ve tried many times and it’s quite impossible!”
“Pity. They would have gone wonderfully with his candy floss duffel coat…”
Welcome to Werewolf Classic, the original WW game brought to the playground by DM77. Narration duties for this iteration fall squarely on my shoulders. In other words, if the game works well it's not my game, and if things go badly it's all my fault. :smalltongue:
For those who don’t know the rules/roles:
Roles
Spoiler
Show
The Good Guys
You win by killing all the Werewolves and the Devil…simple huh?
Villager: You are a villager, a simple member of the Moon clan. Boy I wouldn’t wanna be you. You vote during the day to try and lynch the wolves, and at night you’re liable to get horribly slaughtered…good deal!
Mason: Led by the indomitable Huxley Moon, you’re just a group of family members that know each other well. That doesn’t seem like much of a bonus, but it’s useful to have a trusted group of people around you so you don’t have to sleep with one eye open.
Seer: You’re the guy or girl with the Magic 8 Ball that lets you see into the shrivelled dead hearts of others. Each night you can PM the narrator with a target to scry their role, Villager, Fool or Werewolf. The werewolves aren’t too pleased about that possibility, so you’re likely to be a target for them. If you scry the Devil they’ll come up as a Werewolf.
Fool: You’re so clueless it’s almost cute. You get told you’re the Seer, so you can send in a scry every night to the narrator, but your 8 Ball is so busted you’ll get a completely random result. If you scry the Seer, he’ll always be the Fool to you.
Baner: Well aint you a lucky camper, you got yourself a rabbits foot and some wolfs bane! Didn’t turn out too lucky for the rabbit though…best not to think about that. Each night you can PM the narrator with a person you want to protect, including yourself. That night, if the werewolves come knocking they’ll go away empty handed.
The Bad Guys
You win by reducing the amount of villagers until they equal your own. They taste delicious, so you should have fun trying if nothing else!
Werewolf: Aren’t these sheep just the tastiest things? During the day you wear their skin, walking, talking and voting just like regular folks. At night you turn into a crazed killing machine. As a group the wolves should send a PM to the narrator stating which unlucky villager is going to be their next meal, and they’ll be dead come morning.
Devil: You don’t have a Magic 8 Ball. But you do have a second sight which lets you look into the hearts of others, which is even better! You can scry at night just like the Seer, but even more specifically so you’ll get that players exact role. Your first priority should probably be finding your fellow werewolves as you don’t start off knowing who they are. And we wouldn’t want them eating you by accident would we?
Additional rules:
Spoiler
Show
Autolynches: If you want to play the game, you’d best be sure you can consistently participate. If you don’t vote for two day phases you will be killed in the update in a humorous or horrible way, depending on the narrator’s mood. I’m not one for sending out warning PM’s, so ideally you should be able to check the thread at least every couple of days.
Away Messages: Some of you lucky people might have holidays planned. That’s fine; just post in thread or PM the narrator saying when you’ll be away. That way you won’t get autolynched, though some guy with a sense of humour might get you lynched anyway. Thems the breaks I guess.
Day/Night Phases: Day phases will last a 48-72 hours, and Nights 24-48. My advice is to get your actions in early so you don’t lose them.
Helgraf’s Scry Interference Rule is in play. Basically, if more than one scrier targets the same player during a night phase, neither gets a reading. See, way simpler than it sounds.
Role Claiming: Go ahead, there’s no rule against it. Using role PM’s to prove yourself is bad form though, and will result in you being horribly slaughtered.
Day 16 is underway and will end on Thursday...maybe
Surviving Moon's - 8/44
{table=head]#|Player|Deaded?|Role
1| 52.5 Lemons|Day 2|Devil
2| Alarra
3| Andre Fairchilde|Day 3|Villager
4| Atreyu|Night 12|Mason
5| Billtodamax|Night 3|Mason
6| Bladescape|Night 9|Villager
7| BourgeoisJerry|Night 8|Villager
8| Calar|Day 14|Wolf
9| Castaras|Day 8|Wolf
10| Cd4|Day 1|Villager
11| C'nor|Day 10| Villager
12| Dangermunk|Auto'd Day 7|Wolf
13| Deathslayer7|Night 7|Villager
14| Fat Tony|Auto'd Day 11|Villager
15| Flabort|Day 11|Villager
16| Fleeing Coward|Night 1|Fool
17| Gray Mage
18| GrueBait|Day 15|Villager
19| Helgraf
20| Internet Flea|Day 12|Wolf
21| Julian84|Day 6|Wolf
22| Lemonus|Night 11|Villager
23| Lex-Kat
24| Lord Loss|Auto'd Day 5|Villager
25| Murska|Night 4|Seer
26| Mustiado|Auto'd Day 11|Mason
27| Penguinator|Night 6|Mason
28| Qwaz|Day 5|Villager
29| Ramsus
30| RogueNine
31| Runeboundshade|Night 14|Mason
32| Shadow|Day 4|Wolf
33| Superdark_33
34| Tasroth|Night 10|Villager
35| TBFProgrammer|Night 13|Villager
36| The Bushranger
37| The Grimmace|Night 5|Villager
38| ThePhantom|Night 15|Villager
39| Thufir|Auto'd Day 8|Villager
40| TinyMushroom|Day 9|Wolf
41| TsukikoJ|Auto'd Day 8|Mason
42| Usourselves&we|Day 7|Villager
43| Xanmyral|Auto'd Day 9|Villager
44| Zar Peter|Day 13|Villager
[/table]