Mafia X Game Thread - Day 9

[Helgraf]

Cold. I know this city, and today and every day it is cold.

This city is cold; a wet and miserable place to be, a cesspool of humanity where the scum floats on top because it is actively pushing down everything beneath beneath it.

It is a mortuary built higher than the eyes can see, and its corpses sit behind glass panels under flickering dead lights, so far gone they've forgotten they shouldn't be moving. They go on, existing, rationing out their emptiness into small even slivers, giving up their souls and collecting paychecks; breaking themselves so that the bloated ticks at the top can sip the sweetest juice fermented from their labours.

And here the city; look upon its works, ye mighty and despair; for the city is itself another mockery of life; it has its veins and arteries and a pulse squeezed from the raisin husks that no longer even have enough energy to die free, having given everything to someone else in the wasted hope that it would somehow pay dividends of hope and success. It festers and it rots, spreading contagion to the half-dead sleepers, creating cancers and calling it growth. The city feasts upon the poor, the wretched, those yearning to breath free, leaving behind empty eyes and sallow, sullen faces. The police, a badly outmatched immune system overwhelmed by the enormity and depth of the infection they face - too many have already fallen, worn down and worn out by what most regard as a fool's war.

I know this city. I know every pustule and boil on its diseased epidermis. I know every hard knot, every cancerous lump; every fracture in its central services through which people fall into oblivion and despair.

Here the worst parasites dwell, the pushers and the peddlers, promising forgetfulness - Styx in a bottle, a pill, a powder or a needle. Uncaring unknowing sex, whatever your preference, there's a flesh pit that has it and broken echoes of people in it to meet your too transient needs and leave you poorer, your real wants unfulfilled and your wallet lighter. Here too, are your entrepeneurs who would never even get a glance from the lobbyists of the cold granite and marble cysts that house the city's 'private sector'; the sweet-talkers and deal-makers ... all of which are armed and none of which are above taking an extra cut. A pound of flesh sells for more than you want to believe but less than you think it's worth, and the sellers here always know the going rate.

I know this city intimately, biblicaly, and in many other very personal and no doubt disturbing ways to think about. My oblivion comes in a tall glass; the cocktail dress is optional; by the time I'd be taking it off, I'm probably not seeing the real face of whomever I'm with that night, and this is probably a blessing - if I had to know these people, had to see and recognize their faces, I'd have to start caring about them. When you care, the city notices. You don't want the city to pay attention to you - it never ends well.

I know this city and I know that it will be the end of me, probably sooner rather than later. Maybe this is a mercy too. Better to go full of piss and vinegar than just piss, alone in a tenement choking on your own bile and bitter lost memories.

Once, twice, three times, I strain myself through a shotglass full of something dark and peppery that makes enough of the world and the past go away that I can function. Then it's out once more, into the plaguelands.

(Eldritch Knight)

[Dirk Kris]

Celeste was a nice girl deep down. She really was. Hard times, the Great Depression, and two dead ex-husbands had forced her into this life she now led. She hurried down the street, her head down, her long auburn hair blowing with the breeze of her passage. She kept a hand at her throat, hiding the long scar there - a gift from her first husband. It was why she'd killed him.

With the economy booming recently, the phone in Celeste's place had been ringing fairly steadily. Some men wanted a date, others a quick encounter in a dark room, yet others wanted the things their wives wouldn't give them. She'd done a few couples - unheard of! - and some parties, but her rules for those times were different from the services she normally offered. More rigid, defined. After all, a girl had to look out for herself in the big bad city. She thought of the last time she was with someone because she wanted to, because she liked them. He'd been a gangster - and she'd found out just in time. After spending an evening together, then another...and another...she'd woken up to the quiet click of a hammer being thumbed back. She'd hated the mess it had made when she'd cut his throat, but the cops got it cleaned up and even kept her name out of the papers - for a price, of course. She shuddered as she remembered the station's Christmas party.

But today the phone was quiet, and Celeste found her calendar open for the first time in...she blinked hard as she realized she couldn't remember how long it had been. Of course, she could have looked back, but in her line of work, that generally wasn't the best idea. She stood from her vanity table, long hair curled into loose ringlets and tied back with a thick white ribbon. She put on a dress to match it, and new heels she'd ordered from a catalog. Smiling at her reflection, she decided to head down to Lucky's for a drink.

((And random point at...Mountain Faerie.))

[Trixie]

PirateMonk disrespects the kittens!

Also, for jumping new players.

[banjo1985]

Bayar, pending actual roleplay when I have a spare five seconds.

[Dallas-Dakota]

This hidden bandwagon against Mountain Faerie seems suspicious...

[Zar Peter]

Yesterday was better, yesterday he had a job. Well, being a parkkeeper might not have been the best of all jobs but it meant an monthly payment. And when you hint the local mafias to some interesting cars the monthly payment increased a bit. But now it was over. How could he know that this expensive car was owned by a nephew of one of the local godfathers? And how should he find another job, now that even the mafia let him go? Maybe it was time to leave the city. Maybe it was a mistake to come here at all.

Peter raised his head and took another sip of his beer.

No. I won’t end like my father. I WILL find my luck here in the city. There’s no going back. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. For sure.

Zar Peter points at deathslayer7

[EnrgeticPenguin]

Fleeing Coward, because bandwagons without a base seem to have been giving good results lately.(I.E. Classic)

DD the cookie monster Bandwagoning is wrong.

[Dirk Kris]

Celeste comes into the bar, waving at the familiar faces. She orders herself a whiskey with a beer to chase it and sits near the morose-looking lad sipping at his beer. "Hey there. You look lonely - need a friend?"

[Heroic]

Fleeing Coward for now

[The Bookworm]

He calls himself heroic. But how can we be sure?

[Zar Peter]

Celeste comes into the bar, waving at the familiar faces. She orders herself a whiskey with a beer to chase it and sits near the morose-looking lad sipping at his beer. "Hey there. You look lonely - need a friend?"

Peter, rouse up from his thoughts, looking at Celeste

You mean me? Do I look like I need a friend? Actually I don't believe in friends. There are no friends in the world. At least not in my world. There are talkers, listeners and betrayers. Actually, I think the first two categories belong to the last as well. But if you want to drink your beer with me I don't mind. I'm a good listener. I heard.

With a smile he points at a stool at his table

[Dirk Kris]

Celeste smiles and makes her way over to the empty stool at the man's table. She extends a slender, pale hand to shake - or be kissed. "I know the feeling. It's why I rarely keep the same company for longer than a night or two." Oh, a hint as to her job. "But I'm a good listener, too, dear. Comes with the other part. And you wouldn't believe the things people will tell you after...a nice massage." She smiles coyly, running a finger around the rim of her whiskey glass.

[Zar Peter]

Peter takes her hand and shakes it. A bit too strong, but just a bit.

Well, I believe you've heard a lot. I doubt my rubbish would be very interesting for a woman with your... experiences. And I doubt my purse would allow me to even think of an massage although it sounds very tempting. So, let's just pretend we are friends and talk about our interesting lives until you find someone who actually has the money to purchase your special skills.
Talking about me, I'm just freshly unemployed and searching for a new opportunity to get a job. Well, at first I have to drink away the frustration of being unemployed. I think the second step would be to stop drinking and actually looking for a new job but that's my plan for tomorrow. What are your plans for tomorrow?

He takes another sip of his beer and looks questioning into her eyes.

(well, and my plans for now are going to sleep. Don't expect an answer soon)

[happyturtle]

Randomly Recaiden

[Freshmeat]

*points at The Fiery Tower*
(I would RP a bit but I never bother continuing it after my third or fourth post in the game thread, so meh. )

[Hyozo]

I walk into Lucky's and look around. Nobody new, looks like I'll be buying my own drinks tonight. Fine by me. A few bucks out of my pocket is worth not needing to explain what happened to my arm once again. Pete seems to be in a grim mood, and he's talking to that [expelative voluntarily removed] Celeste, who is, no doubt, looking for a new customer. It's probably best not to get involved, so I get a stool farther away, and order the usual.

[calar]

Opeth Freak, random point.

[Lemming]

I point to Heroic, even though what happened in BR4 wasn't his fault.
I'll do some RPing once I've gotten some sleepz. <_<

[Mountain_Faerie]

Faerie gazes out the window of their upstairs apartment. She pretends the sun is shining and imagines her mother's voice singing from the other room.

Her mother had the most gorgeous voice in town. She used to sing in the choir at the local cathedral. But now the doors were barred. People were too afraid to step foot in the chapel since the mafia had blown away all the priests. The only sacred place these days was a bar called Lucky's.

I guess it's hard to pull the trigger when you're soused on liquor.

If only Albert hadn't run from town. And Ganurath. They were her family. Her friend. Now she was all alone.

Her daydreaming (or nightmare, as it might be) was interrupted by wailing sounds (singing???) on the street. She opened her eyes and saw PhantomFox. She quickly retreated from the window in a feeble attempt to get away from the sound.

[Jontom Xire]

It's day 1 and I just spent the first 30 minutes at work on this forum, so Murska.

[Alarra]

Currently out of town, so no rp yet... *random point at PirateMonk*, just in case I don't get back to this thread before the day ends.

[TFT]

Gonna get a quick point in on Alarra for getting a quick point in.

[Opeth_Freak]

Finally, after 30 minutes of long walk through the streets, Freelance Detective Michael Opeth found his detination - Lucky's Bar.

Ah... Lucky's... If you're looking for a friend, 'friend', enemy, or just information - there's no better place in the whole city. Of course the last one wasn't an option this time. Every single person with 'knowledge and contacts' would kill him with laughter, if he would say, he's looking for a vampire. No, there's a reputation to keep, he'll do this by himself this time.

Without any more contemplation, Mike entered the bar. Typical atmosphere for a late afternoon. The main event for today was still unprepared, and most customers were people who just finished their job. Mike liked observing people in the bar. Not only to polish his observation and deduction skills. It was just fun sometimes, to see old customers, and what crazy things they were doing this time, or some complete newcomers, and their confused reaction. When you don't have a cash to buy one of those new thingies called 'TV', and newspapers were full of crap, you just got to do something.

But first things first. Opeth put of his hat and coat, and went toward the bartender - Lucky himself this time (he just loved his job) - to make his miserable world little less miserable, with a glass of fine Scotch.

"Well, well, well. Looks like the best detective in the city has visited me once again!"

"Spare my your irony Lucky, will you? And give me some scotch. Good scotch, not that crap you're used to give people. I'll pay, of course."

"Looking for information, huh?" Bartender took glass from the shelf, and began filling it with a fine whiskey.

"No. Not this time. I just want to have a good drink, that's it." Mike took his wallet.

"Bullcrap. You're actually paying me for it. You always drink on credit, or for some little job. You have to have a new case."

"Amazing deduction, boss. Ever considered being detective? Anyway... Yeah, I have a new case. But this time, I'm doing it alone, without anyone's help."

"Someone must have offered you a lot of cash, if you don't want to share it with your contacts."

"Again, I have to bow before your amazing detective skills, chief." Mike smiled a little, as he had now an excuse to not talk about vampires.

"Good luck then. All this cash will eventually get back to me anyway, so I'm not going to disturb you."

"Yeah. Thanks Lucky."

Opeth took his glass and turned around to see the whole bar. The first thing he noticed, was the beautiful Miss Celeste, and her lovely auburn hair. Mike used to spend a night or two with her. Of course, he didn't have cash for it, so the price was finding and catching some bastards, who cheated her with payment. Now she was giving her sweet eyes to... a Park Keeper Pete, if he recall correctly. He wasn't really sure, if Pete has any money to even think about Celeste's services, but she probably had some mysterious plan in her head, as always. Mike decided to enjoy the show from far distance, and took a little sip from his glass. After all, he payed far too much for this scotch, to empty it immediately, right?

[Dirk Kris]

Peter takes her hand and shakes it. A bit too strong, but just a bit.

Well, I believe you've heard a lot. I doubt my rubbish would be very interesting for a woman with your... experiences. And I doubt my purse would allow me to even think of an massage although it sounds very tempting. So, let's just pretend we are friends and talk about our interesting lives until you find someone who actually has the money to purchase your special skills.
Talking about me, I'm just freshly unemployed and searching for a new opportunity to get a job. Well, at first I have to drink away the frustration of being unemployed. I think the second step would be to stop drinking and actually looking for a new job but that's my plan for tomorrow. What are your plans for tomorrow?

He takes another sip of his beer and looks questioning into her eyes.

(well, and my plans for now are going to sleep. Don't expect an answer soon)

Celeste chuckles quietly, a musical gurgle of laughter. "Like I said, we all need a friend sometimes. And believe it or not, it's not always about the money." She crosses her long legs and tucks some of her hair behind her ear and shrugs as she considers the lad's question. "Tomorrow? Well...nothing, actually. I get a two-day weekend all to myself. And who cares if it falls on Monday and Tuesday? Long as I'm breathing." She smiles. "Sorry to hear about your job. Times are changin' everywhere. But tell you what, I'll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear about anything, um...I didn't catch your name." Celeste's eyes casually glance about the room, and she smiles a bit when she sees Mike, her detective friend. If worse came to worse...meh, the man had earned a freebie for his work on her behalf.

[Zar Peter]

Celeste chuckles quietly, a musical gurgle of laughter. "Like I said, we all need a friend sometimes. And believe it or not, it's not always about the money." She crosses her long legs and tucks some of her hair behind her ear and shrugs as she considers the lad's question. "Tomorrow? Well...nothing, actually. I get a two-day weekend all to myself. And who cares if it falls on Monday and Tuesday? Long as I'm breathing." She smiles. "Sorry to hear about your job. Times are changin' everywhere. But tell you what, I'll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear about anything, um...I didn't catch your name." Celeste's eyes casually glance about the room, and she smiles a bit when she sees Mike, her detective friend. If worse came to worse...meh, the man had earned a freebie for his work on her behalf.

You can call me Pete, nearly everybody here does. I think I didn't get your name, either. Thank you very much for looking for a job for me, although I must admit it will be hard. I think I made some enemies here in the quarter, maybe it's better to look uptown, or in the harbour. It's good to have a plan at least. If nothing else.

[Dirk Kris]

"Celeste." She smiles and nods. "The docks can always use a pair of strong hands to help. Tell you what, Pete, I know a foreman down there named Mikey who does his best to stay out of the city's...other business. If you're looking to dodge someone, he'd be a good friend to have." She winks over at the detective - if he's worth his salt, he'll notice.

[Irbis]

PirateMonk disrespects the kittens!

Yes, how PirateMonk cannot like the kittens?

[Opeth_Freak]

Mike was somewhat puzzled, when the girl gave him a wink. Clearly an invitation... But for what reason? Yeah sure, he used to be a knight in shiny armor (only without a shiny armor, and with colt and self defense skills instead of a sword) when the situation demanded it, but Pete certainly didn't look like someone aggressive. Celeste's smile could also mean everything but danger.

Still with the glass of scotch in his hand, Mike approached Celeste's and Pete's table. Maybe just because of curiosity, and maybe because he was a sucker for women smile. Anyway, invitation is an invitation, right?

"Why hello there Celly." Detective smiled a little. "My trained eye tells me, you need my assistance. You don't look like a damsel in distress however. Something wrong?"

[Guancyto]

PirateMonk. I just like pointing at him.

[Andre Fairchilde]

Narrator note:
6 hours to the end of voting.

A couple of answers to PMs and questions.

Alpha Wolves in Mafia -
In Mafia, the roles were not chosen by the "Alpha". They were randomized. The team mates may or may not know each other, the players may or may not be experienced players. This is a random game.

But, my definition of the Alpha Wolf, per se, is the dominant or leader of the wolf pack. That's why I give each team a wolf that scries as a citizen, in addition to a Devil that scries as the Devil.

Since this is an exercise in teamwork, the narrators (there are two of us) don't care who sends in the "Kill" action as long as some one does from each team. It can be the same player, or a different player as long as the inputs come in.

Anyone can send in the Devil scry request from the wolf team, but we only send the result to the Devil. It's up to the devil to share to the team. If you have a weak Devil...

If the Devil dies, that team loses it's scry.

Another note:
The Fool's scry - we are going to make a minor change to the way the fool scries, it may or may not be "35%" accurate, but at the recommendation of older experienced players - I have a second randomized player/role spreadsheet for the Fool. There is only 1 scry that is guaranteed to be accurate - and that is the Scryer.

If this generates more questions, PM me and I'll answer on the board - unless you just want a PM.