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Post by KidVermicious on Aug 3, 2008 2:04:49 GMT -5
The artificial lights dim, heralding the end of the Day. Those players that weren't already in the common area enter now, to find a little less than half the town gathered in a ring around Molefan.
He'd attempted a defense, earlier in the Day, but was now lounging in a chair and ignoring the shouted accusations and incriminations. The LED vote counter on the wall reveals his doom - the Town has voted to lynch Molefan.
At the exact stroke of Dusk, a hooded man with an axe enters the side door. Molefan is escorted to the dais with the chopping block on it, bound and blindfolded.
His neck is strapped to the block.
The Executioner steps up.
*thunk*
A trap door opens in the floor to accept the severed head, and hidden vacuum tubes in the block remove nearly all the blood before it touches the floor, but some inevitably remains...
The Executioner leaves.
Night has fallen.
***********************************************
Molefan, The Godfather and a scum player, has been lynched (or decapitated, or whatever). A search of his room reveals an opened package of stationary with hearts and flowers on the borders, an Academy Award for Best Screenplay, and an instructional booklet titled "How To Destroy a Town in Five Days".
It is now Night Two. No strategy talk, please. Night will last until Dot says it's Day Three, which may or my not be 48 hours from now... if you're nice to her, she might even give you some warning. Power roles, get those actions in early, and please be sure to PM the correct gastardmod, or risk losing your action and stuff.
Squidio would have won the Night One minigame, guessing 450 posts, but since he's DEAD (the devilworshipping bastard), Hal Briston wins the Night One minigame, guessing 481 posts. Hal, check your PMs.
Night Two minigame - make El Conquistador laugh. No, really. Any way you can. The player most responsible, in my judgement, for whatever makes me laugh the hardest in the Day Three game hread wins.
G'night!
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Post by Mister Blockey on Aug 3, 2008 2:16:17 GMT -5
Oh, and to whom it may concern, the apple just started oozing black liquid burst into a scintillating purple and green flame, and then evaporated.
Sleep tight players!
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Post by Captain Klutz on Aug 3, 2008 2:29:46 GMT -5
Here's the final Day 2 vote-count:
molefan 15 (rugger, pedescribe, Idle Thoughts, bufftabby, hockeyguy, Høøpy Frøød, drainbead, hockeymonkey, diggitcamara, Kat, Rajaat, Cookies, Captain Klutz, nanook, Hal)
Parzival 1 (molefan)
Duke of Scotland 1 (Parzival)
roosh (boozahol Deadsquid, so probably doesn't count)
Apparently there are mafia games where the mods do this sort of thing for us. I'd like to play in one of those.
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Post by Captain Klutz on Aug 3, 2008 2:33:59 GMT -5
I'll be back at work tomorrow (holidays over), so my ability to contribute will be somewhat limited. I'll basically be catching up once per day (that's day, not Day). Detailed post analysis is not likely until the weekend (then again, for this Gastard game, detailed analysis is less useful than usual).
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Post by ComeToTheDarkSideWeHaveCookies on Aug 3, 2008 2:54:55 GMT -5
Huzzah!
And in psychedelic confection news, my mallowmar'd dreams are proving to be quit interesting this Night:9
Depending on what Captain Klutz and Hal Might be able to add to that (assuming they hopefully wake up in the Morning...unless of course they're scum, in which case I hope they are tormented for all eterminty by a most sadistic Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man), it appears that we all made the right choice with our snack food choices.
Here is the (purposefully, I assume) vague PM I received upon eating my marshmallow:
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Post by The Lion on Aug 3, 2008 5:17:30 GMT -5
Night Two minigame - make El Conquistador laugh. No, really. Any way you can. The player most responsible, in my judgement, for whatever makes me laugh the hardest in the Day Three game hread wins. G'night! /me dances a silly drunken jig. Aye stolle thesh frum maye -hic- Iwish fends. Like eeee'?
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Merestil Haye
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Post by Merestil Haye on Aug 3, 2008 6:21:03 GMT -5
You want to laugh? What better to laugh at than a joke?
It is 1895. The British Empire spans the globe, and Victoria reigns over all from London.
In the Austrailan outback our heroes, Charles Carruthers and Bernard Fortescue-Smythe, make plans for a daring journey. They intend to walk across the Nullaboor Plain. They have devised a cunning way to store enough water, and have the proper gear.
They set off.
Part of the way across, with the sun beating down from a cloudless sky, the worst happens. The water container bursts, and the entirety of their water supply soaks into the parched earth. They are almost exactly in the middle of the Plain (they think) and all directions are alike. They press onward.
By the end of the day they are feeling dizzy through lack of water. They rest briefly then press on, hoping to find some shade for the day.
When the sun rises they are in the middle of an utterly flat, featureless area. There is less shade than there is water - and there is none of the latter. The sun hammers at them, draining them of their reserves. Despite all their skills, they begin to wander, being so groggy in the heat.
The next morning sees them still walking, still looking for water or shade - anything. By midday they are reduced to crawling.
They can't estimate how long has passed before Carruthers (who is in the lead) realises he has gone blind. He stops, and gropes around. No, not blind - he can see the glare of the Sun on the ground behind him, but something blocks it. He croaks "Shade..." Both he and Fortescue-Smythe pause briefly before resuming their crawl.
They don't get far before Carruthers comes to a stop - there is something in his way. As he realises this and begins to lift his head, the obstacle disappears, to be replaced by a pair of feet - dark-skinned feet.
A voice cries out "Visitors!"
Carruthers and Fortescue-Smythe find themselves surrounded, lifted up and carried into the hut. They lift their heads to see a young Aborigine, who smiles at them and, in impeccable Queens English, welcomes them to Mercy and asks what they want to drink. Years of ingrained habit cut in, and they ask for tea. The man calls out a sharp command; "Tea for our guests!" Feet scurry to obey.
Being thoughtful, the natives provide the explorers with a glass of water each "to tide you over." They learn that their host (who's name was unpronounceable) went to school at Eton and Jesus College, Cambridge (where "everybody called me Sin.") They reminisce about schooldays until finally the tea is served.
Sin pours. As he does so Fortescue-Smythe asks "What kind of tea is this, Sin old fellow? Chinese, Assan?"
Carruthers leans across before Sin can answer and saays "It does not matter old bean. Tea is tea, after all." Fortescue-Smythe acquiesces weakly.
Milk and sugar having been added to taste, the explorers get their tea. Carruthers stirs briefly and is just about to take his first mouthful when Fortescue-Smythe cries out. "Here. This tea is lumpy! What is it made from?"
Sin answers, a touch reluctantly, "It is made from the pressed flesh of koala bears."
"Koala bears? Koala bears? But.. but... don't you even get the lumps out?" Fortescue-Smythe gasps.
Sin looks a little surprised. "But of course not. Everyone in England knows that the koala tea of Mercy is not strained."
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Post by Rajaat on Aug 3, 2008 7:38:06 GMT -5
You want to laugh? What better to laugh at than a joke? It is 1895. The British Empire spans the globe, and Victoria reigns over all from London. Hell, that part alone had me laughing.
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Post by Holy Moley! on Aug 3, 2008 7:46:25 GMT -5
<------- More completely pwned than he's ever been before in a game like this. Have fun, guys! Go scum!
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Gir!
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What? Kat is sweet and innocent!
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Post by Gir! on Aug 3, 2008 8:17:19 GMT -5
Hey, moley, as long as you're here, how about naming all the other scum for us? ;D
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Post by Rajaat on Aug 3, 2008 8:17:49 GMT -5
<------- More completely pwned than he's ever been before in a game like this. Have fun, guys! Go scum! Still, good game Molefan. It was fun playing with you. ;D
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Post by Høøpy Frøød on Aug 3, 2008 10:12:43 GMT -5
Yay! We got one!
*Pours himself a celebratory beer.*
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Parzival
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Post by Parzival on Aug 3, 2008 10:46:51 GMT -5
Well, I guess I'm glad the countdown was not twenty-four hours. I would've eaten that apple. And you guys weren't going crazy - a gagmod posted it in the Day One thread, here. But we had a different lynch number for Day One as well. I'm not protesting the gagmods decision on the post count contest, but I just wanted to point out that I did make a serious guess. And the third k-hyperperfect number that is not also perfect, or the first 3-hyperperfect number, is also known as 325. Hooray for actually getting scum this time.
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Gir!
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What? Kat is sweet and innocent!
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Post by Gir! on Aug 3, 2008 10:50:47 GMT -5
Yay, I'm not crazy!
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Post by Drain Bead on Aug 3, 2008 11:11:10 GMT -5
Woohoo! Now we're talking!
Unfortunately, it's a damn shame Darth bit it, as that role turned out to be quite useful.
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Hockey Monkey!
Borogrove
This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Let's not bicker over who killed who.
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Post by Hockey Monkey! on Aug 3, 2008 11:31:48 GMT -5
BlaM
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Post by bufftabby on Aug 3, 2008 11:45:48 GMT -5
I've got a joke as well. I believe I'll make our dear, departed, scumbag Molefan the subject, just for kicks.
Molefan wakes up one morning, and greets the day in his usual manner: with a huge, noxious cloud of bodily gas. This morning, however, things are different. Instead of the "pfffffffffffft!" that usually accompanies his voluminous gaseous discharges, he quite distinctly hears his sphincter say, "Honda, honda!" This has never happened to him before, and he doesn't even own a Honda, nor does his sphincter!
Molefan chalks this strange experience up to a crazy dream he had the night before, (in which he was executed most severely) and continues on with his day. He heads into work at the poodle factory, where he attaches poodle heads all morning until time for lunch. "Mmm, mexican food," molefan says, having been inspired by a stray chihuahua that had made it onto the production line, (and had gotten a poodle head, same as everyone else). Molefan gorged himself on 8 or so bean burritos, and felt quite satisfied, until he felt a strange rumbling in his tummy. He could feel another cloud of noxious bodily gas preparing to exit his sphincter. He crossed his fingers, and hoped for the best. "HOOOOONNNNDDDDAAAAAAAA" roared from his nether regions, so loudly that the force knocked him out of his chair. He rapped his head quite soundly on the floor, and the world turned black for him.
Molefan woke up in a hospital bed, hooked up to more machines than he could count. He realized that not only did his head feel like it had been used as a punching bag, but he had a terrible toothache. "First I get beheaded, then I knock myself unconscious with fart power, and now I've got a toothache. Could this day get any freaking worse?" At that moment, a doctor walked through the door, and said, "Yes, frankly, molefan, it really could. We have no clue what's wrong with you. In fact, we're so desperate that we've brought in a swami ("or something," he whispers. "I can never understand these foreign dudes.") He's going to take a look at your chakras" ("or some other shit," he whispers. "Hell if I know.")
A tiny fellow with a shock of white hair and nutbrown skin wearing voluminous linens steps through the door, and begins waving his arms around with his eyes closed. The doctor shrugs and leaves. The old swami-type suddenly opens his eyes, and looks at molefan. "You have been very bad," he says. "You are like scum. But this is not the cause of your problem. No no no. *This* is," and he points at molefan's hurting tooth. "What?" Molefan exclaimed. "My problem is with my sphincter!"
"Ah, yes, but you see, Abcess Make the Fart Go Honda!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week. Please, tip your waitresses. I didn't make that joke up (I think I saw it on the SDMB about 10 years ago), but the color is all mine. Thanks for your participation, molefan you scummy scum!
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Post by hockeyguy8435 on Aug 3, 2008 12:09:56 GMT -5
To answer your question from the Day thread, Kat. No, not my surprise birthday last night. My friend's girlfriend. Fun time.
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Gir!
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What? Kat is sweet and innocent!
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Post by Gir! on Aug 3, 2008 12:25:05 GMT -5
Wow. I hope it was only a suprise to you, and not to your friend, or he's in deep shit.
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Post by KidVermicious on Aug 3, 2008 12:30:38 GMT -5
Here's the final Day 2 vote-count: molefan 15 (rugger, pedescribe, Idle Thoughts, bufftabby, hockeyguy, Høøpy Frøød, drainbead, hockeymonkey, diggitcamara, Kat, Rajaat, Cookies, Captain Klutz, nanook, Hal) Parzival 1 (molefan) Duke of Scotland 1 (Parzival) roosh (boozahol Deadsquid, so probably doesn't count) Apparently there are mafia games where the Great and Glorious mods do this sort of thing for us. I'd like to play in one of those. Ahem. This is not fluff. We are currently debating whether or not it's enough not-fluff to warrant action on our part... please don't do this again.
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Post by hockeyguy8435 on Aug 3, 2008 12:37:58 GMT -5
Wow. I hope it was only a suprise to you, and not to your friend, or he's in deep shit. It was a surprise to her, as planned.
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Post by hockeyguy8435 on Aug 3, 2008 12:38:36 GMT -5
Maybe I should have said "surprise party" and not birthday.
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Post by bufftabby on Aug 3, 2008 12:47:45 GMT -5
"Surprise! It's your birthday!"
"Oh my gawd, I had no idea! How old am I???"
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Post by The Real FCOD on Aug 3, 2008 13:52:14 GMT -5
Wow, that was a crazy day! Mr. Scummyboots, esq. is sorta glad he missed that one. Good job, town, for tracking down the Godfather!
--FCOD
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Post by KidVermicious on Aug 3, 2008 14:48:50 GMT -5
Right. For violating the no-fluff restriction in a mostly inconsequential way, Captain Klutz will recieve a mostly inconsequential penalty.
Hee hee...
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Post by Drain Bead on Aug 3, 2008 15:02:20 GMT -5
Here's a joke for you all.
A pirate walks into a bar, and the bartender can't help but notice that the pirate has a very large captain's wheel coming out of the fly on his tight leather pirate pants. It's really quite large and obvious.
The pirate heads up to the bar and orders a bottle of rum. As the bartender serves it up, he can't help but ask what's going on. But seeing as this is a pirate, he figures he has to be nice about it.
"Excuse me, sir, but do you know you have a big captain's wheel coming out of your fly?" he asks.
"Aye, matey, that I do," the pirate responds.
At this point the bartender HAS to ask. "Wow, I've never seen anything like that!" he gushes. "What's it doing there? Does it hurt?"
"Yarrrrrrrrrrrr, it's drivin' me nuts!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Best thing about this joke is not necessarily the joke itself--it's that a friend of mine told it to a roomful of people while drunk. He was really hamming it up, doing all the voices, and then he got to the punchline and said "Yarrrrrrrrrrr, it's steerin' me nuts!"
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Post by KidVermicious on Aug 3, 2008 15:17:40 GMT -5
You know why pirates say "Arrrrrh!"?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cuz "Efff!" ain't very fuckin' scary.
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Post by hockeyguy8435 on Aug 3, 2008 16:01:33 GMT -5
I got a joke.
What kind of bees make milk?
BOOBIES!
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Post by Idle Thoughts on Aug 3, 2008 17:15:36 GMT -5
Woooo! That feels good. Cokes are on me. And..er..harder stuff too, but just Coke for me, at least.
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Hockey Monkey!
Borogrove
This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Let's not bicker over who killed who.
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Post by Hockey Monkey! on Aug 3, 2008 17:43:43 GMT -5
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