Mid-Range Game 7: Eighty Splendid Suns

[Kasimir]

The cycle is closed. Please stand by for the incoming write-up and PMs. Thank you.

[Kasimir]

MR7: Cycle Twelve - The Painter's Choice

Kwai tended to the hearthfire as the last patron left the Frozen Moon. He washed the cups and dried them and stacked them neatly, poured out a last cup of tea for himself and sipped it.

It had been a long day, a wearying day. It had taken him six cups alone to touch up on the mural still taking shape, still painstakingly laboured over in the cellar of the teahouse.

Now, he stood at the counter, breathed, and allowed himself a seventh cleansing cup, easing the toil and worries of the day.

There were many of them, weighing on his mind.

Wenshon had taken one look at the few customers in the Frozen Moon, sighed, and told him to take care of cleaning up, and turned in early. It was a long slow day, another in a whole string of them. They’d repaired the doorframe, for one, but custom was slow to return to the teahouse.

They were probably tired of the faction war and had decided to lie low and wait things out, Kwai thought. Nights, he was.

He realised that he had emptied his cup, and sighed and reached over and poured himself an eighth cup of tea, because the kettle was still full. A few leaves drifted on the surface of the water. He waited, allowing it to settle.

If only his thoughts could do the same, leaving his mind as clear as the steeped tea.

His thoughts drifted—not for the first time—to the message written on the folded slip of paper, curled up in the bamboo tube.

When was it too late? Kwai wondered. When did you realise that you’d started down a path you could not turn back from? Sometimes, choices swept you up with them, like the headwaters of a raging river. Some choices could not be unmade.

The hour was late, now. Or perhaps, it was early.

Sometimes, it depended on your perspective.

The door to the Frozen Moon creaked open. The night breeze blew in, chilly, laced with the faintest scent of smoke.

A man that Kwai had expected never to see again in his life stepped in through the doorway in that moment.

He hid his surprise. “Arbiter,” Kwai greeted, inclining his head to the man who was now the foremost Arbiter of the Reform Faction. “Could I offer you a cup of tea?”

Arbiter Gamman straightened the collar of his formal robes; a deliberate gesture. There were no guards, Kwai noticed. That surprised him. That told him much.

“I suppose I should accept,” Gamman said. “By all means, then. It has been a very long time since I have set foot in the Frozen Moon.”

A thin smile, like winter ice. Like winter ice, too, there were dangers here: both the obvious ones, and the ones that lurked beneath the surface.

There was a little water left, freshly drawn from the well. Kwai filled the kettle and left it to heat. He would add the tea leaves, later.

He moved slowly, deliberately.

Gamman looked at him and said, amused, “He won’t shoot. Yet.”

“That would be the man you’ve put in the rafters,” Kwai said. “You probably had him wait with this morning’s crowd, of course, so I’d have forgotten about him since I regularly serve the lower level of the teahouse. And Wenshon had left early, this night, so he wouldn’t have noticed.”

He let the smile on Gamman’s face grow for a moment longer before he added, “Of course, I’m not sure what to say about the crossbowman in the courtyard outside. A little excessive, wouldn’t you say?”

Gamman let out an abrupt laugh. “By the suns! I’ve certainly missed talking to you, painter. You’re far more entertaining than guards or even hired assassins.”

Kwai shrugged, tiredly. “So, you found me.”

“Yes, I did,” Gamman replied, casually. “I suppose you got my message.”

“I read it,” Kwai said.

“And?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Nights,” Gamman growled. “I came because I could see no other way to speak with you, quietly. And to say certain things.”

“Then say them,” Kwai said. He had not been prepared for this conversation, he thought. He had expected one thing, had found himself confronted by something else entirely.

In the flickering light of the hearth, the shadows seemed to shift as they spoke.

“I paid off the Strikers searching for you,” Gamman said. “You think the word of a mere proprietor enough to deter them?”

Kwai shrugged. “I really wouldn’t know.”

Gamman said, “I need you.”

Kwai said, “There are assassins. And guards by the dozen.”

“None as quick to grasp the implications,” Gamman said, bluntly. “None with your particular set of skills.”

“What was it then?” Kwai asked, surprising himself by his own bitterness. “An audition? For that I killed Yazad and Kaleva?”

Gamman said, “You got attached, didn’t you?”

Kwai made no answer.

Gamman sighed. “Attachment, sentiment,” he said. “Men like us cannot afford such luxuries, Kwai. We live in times that will either break the Rose Empire or forge it anew. We cannot balk at what must be done. There is no other time as good, painter. You know it. Kaleva…” he hesitated. Finally, he said, “Kaleva would not have seen it. He was ready to end it, painter. To stop the dance and to surrender, gracefully, to the inevitable. You must know this.”

“And Yazad?”

Gamman said, “You seem to think I did not know him. I did. For all that he was, first and foremost, nominated by Kaleva. He spoke to all of us. I remembered him.” He looked at Kwai. “Nights, painter. You should’ve heard him, back then, when he was hale. All the dreams, all the promises. We were going to fix all the things that had broken within the Empire, one by one. And then he became Emperor, and we watched as they fought him, inch by inch, step by step, breaking him, killing him. Tell me you did not think it a mercy, painter.”

Kwai hesitated.

“And now?”

Gamman shrugged. His face was shadowed. “We do what we must. You know my aims. Has this much changed, painter?”

Kwai considered it. He retrieved the leaves, and poured out the water from the kettle into two cups, and offered one of them to the arbiter.

“Perhaps,” Kwai said. “What are the men for, then?”

And here was the steel. “Because I do not know the answer you intend to give.”

Choices, Kwai thought, all unfolding before him, like threads of scarlet in a tapestry of blood. He closed his eyes, cradled the cup in his hands. He was a painter, he knew that. And he remembered why he had done it, why Gamman had persuaded him. It was a tempting thought, to create the future through the thrust of a dagger, rather than through a paintbrush. A reminder of who he was—of what he was.

His hand brushed his left shoulder, for a moment.

Sometimes, you painted in blood. Was that what he wanted?

He opened his eyes. He made his choice.
 

---

Nobody died!



Okay. Guys, I have an announcement to make. I considered not announcing this, but I believe this is important to your decision. So:
 
Moderation is dead and has been dead for a cycle. The Faction has been defeated. I know this game has been dragging on pretty long for an MR, and this is partly my fault in not building in an inactivity filter because normally, that would increase the kill-rate and deal with inactivity issues.

But so, I'm going to offer everyone a choice. Based on what I am currently observing, most Factions seem to want to kill Discovery and then turn on each other. There has been a very low activity rate in this game so far, and I assume everyone is generally tired and just wants this to end.

I am going to offer the surviving Factions, Heritage and Glory, the option of this game ending as a joint-victory for both of them should they manage to kill Discovery. (Or, I suppose, as a joint-loss, if Discovery kills you...)

I am going to require all living players to PM me by the end of this cycle to indicate if you would prefer your current win conditions or if you will go for the joint victory. I will further note that if I get no response from players, I will assume that you have opted for a joint victory, by default. And lastly, I will require a majority in favour of individual victory conditions in order not to institute the joint victory.

Thank you.

The cycle has begun and will end on 23rd July, at 11PM SGT. This late write-up has been brought to you by all the game-changing last minute orders and by Heron Industries^TM.

Player List:

 

1. Ableah Edr (Haelbarde)
2. Bortholemew the Blind (Bort)
3. Cang Lu (Wyrmhero) - The Master of Physics
4. Baatar Zaofu (Adamir)
5. Jain (Jain)
6. Seixa (phattemer)
7. Wai ZhierSen (little wilson)
8. Cation Vinid (Shallan)
9. Sir Edonar (Paranoid King)
10. Hreo (Herowannabe)
11. Waimin (Mailliw73)
12. Locke (OrlokTsubodai)
13. Sei Nis (Seonid)
14. Arandar (Araris Valerian)
15. Dow (dowanx)
16. The Green Xienbei (Emerald101)
17. Kartesh (Zephrer)
18. Jeno (The Only Joe)
19. Eo (spooky Eowyn)
20. Neo (neodymium)
21. Pixie (Pixie)
23. Ishtar (zas678)
24. Asterion (Alvron)
25. Ynla Ka (Clanky)
26. Slave (Bridge Boy)
27. Kip Sturm (Kipper)
28. Ashim (Aonar Faileas)

Edited July 5, 2021 by Kasimir

[Kipper]

Alright. That wasn't good.

Apparently, our roleblocking worked as expected, and Regicide was not used.

If Joe spilled his guts, you guys should know about the lynch. I'm somewhat bummed that all of our people did not log on to vote, but I can live with that. This time, we should actually lynch one of the Discovery members for real. I would go for Zephrer.

Joe, can you roleblock Zephrer, and I will take care of PK?

[Zephrer]

You really want me dead, don't you Kipper...

Now what did I ever do that was so incriminating and unforgivable to make you want me dead?

Sure I'm Discovery, but I've never actually done much aside from vote to lynch according to the desires of discovery and bribe according to The desires of Heritage. I'd hardly call that grounds to kill me

[Kipper]

I want to win. Is that grounds enough?

[Zephrer]

Fair enough. Go ahead and kill me

[A Joe in the Bush]

Alright. That wasn't good.

Apparently, our roleblocking worked as expected, and Regicide was not used.

If Joe spilled his guts, you guys should know about the lynch. I'm somewhat bummed that all of our people did not log on to vote, but I can live with that. This time, we should actually lynch one of the Discovery members for real. I would go for Zephrer.

Joe, can you roleblock Zephrer, and I will take care of PK?

So Aonar is now soft confirmed to be True Glory, since Regicide wan't used.And yes, I will RB Zephrer.

 

Also, I haven't spilled my guts yet. you guys should know that I don't get on until like 12 hours after the cycle starts (Yes, I know it only started 10 hours ago. Shut up.)

[Seonid]

Ummm...no, Aonar has admitted to being Discovery in the doc. I was going to direct you there to see his conversation, but I just realized that you got bribed away. Good choice Heritage.

 

He is Discovery but has supposedly retained his Bloodsealer role, which is interesting. He says that he thought he couldn't use Regicide because it was restricted to Blasphemous Scholars, but Kas has apparently clarified that any member of Discovery may use it. Aonar claims that Discovery didn't make a kill at all last cycle, as they expected to be roleblocked.

[A Joe in the Bush]

. . .

 

That changes things. We can no longer fully stop Discovery from making a kill. Kipper. I will be using a RNG to decide which of the three discovery members I will RB. I recommend you do the same. Hopefully we stop whichever of them is making the kill.

 

Also Last cycle we forgot Orlok is still alive and in Heritage. Add him to your player list.

 

(And would you mind not bribing me back? In the very first cycle of the game, <REDACTED> and I swore we would only win with Heritage. I want to fulfill that oath by partaking in the joint win.)

[Seonid]

I'll go with that. I don't have anywhere near the influence in glory that I had with heritage or moderation, but I'll do what I can

[Kipper]

Well, by all rights, I figured out that Aonar was Discovery, but that's another story for another time...I'll c/p that conversation after endgame.

As for the roleblocking, Paranoid King wasn't on at all for the duration of the last cycle, so if that trend keeps up, you may not have to do an RNG (I have no idea what that means, but I'm assuming it means random?).

For the bribing, idk. It's really either bribe you back or kill you, and I would hate to kill you because you didn't want to be bribed.

[A Joe in the Bush]

Why kill me? We can go for the joint win.

Edited July 22, 2015 by The Only Joe

[Kipper]

Joe, Paranoid King has still not been online, so unless he gets back online, I will be roleblocking Aonar, and I hope that you will block Zephrer. We can also still lynch Zephrer, too, provided that everyone cooperates.

[Zephrer]

I refuse to cooperate due to obvious reasons

[Kipper]

But of course, sir. No need to even mention it.

[Kasimir]

The cycle is now closed. No further PMs will be accepted, please hang in there for the write-up and stuff.

[Elithanathile]

I can't believe it. I'm still alive? Sorry for the inactivity, but last thursday my family had a 4hour internet outage, immexiately followed by a six hour drive to go on vacation, also followed by 6 days of vacation without internet, and the drive back. I didn't tell you beforehand, because I thought I would have internet there. I am so sorry about all the inactivity, and I have a lot of catching up to do. Mostly I'm just surprised that I'm alive. Also, PK was on the vacation with me, with the same issues, so that's why he was inactive too.

[Kasimir]

MR7: Aftermath - The Triumph of Art

That night was a night of endings.

In one of the many underground arenas in the Imperial Seat, where coins, even at this hour, swapped furtive hands, Kartesh waited. The previous bout had been particularly interesting to watch, with one of the combatants reputedly Teullu-trained.

Lies, most of it. But the crowd loved it and soaked it up.

So he had to spend the past hours watching a fistfight between two men.

He had no bout on, tonight, but the training ring of the arena was as a second home. He lined up a target, and carefully fought, pelting it with blows from the blunted sword he carried. The rules of a duel were far different from those of being a soldier. He pulled blows, and pulled them hard. The idea was to score points by making marks of contact; on rare occasions, to kill.

Death was always there, Kartesh thought. You got used to it, or you moved on.

He smashed the target in the knee with the pommel of the training sword. Half a point, Kartesh counted, and then followed up with a driving slash to the shoulder. A full point, for that one. Shoulder-wounds were considered to be proper marks of contact, when made with the edge of the blade rather than with the pommel.

He attacked the target viciously, his blade a constant blur of motion, raining down blow after blow. Why, he could not say. It was cathartic, at least, to take out his frustrations on the target. Cathartic to hit something that couldn’t fight back.

Being hunted down like an animal. Being cornered. Being killed.

His breathing was heavy. Sweat dripped into his eyes.

A sound.

He whirled around, senses still raw. A Striker had entered the room; no, he thought. Not a Striker. A Captain. He recognised her—the Captain of the Emperor’s Guard. He’d seen her that day, when she entered the Frozen Moon searching for the MaiPon assassin who’d reportedly killed Yazad.

It seemed an eternity ago. He reached up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “What?” he asked.

She tossed something to him, overhand. He caught it, startled. A skin of water.

“Thanks,” Kartesh murmured. He tipped a little, into his mouth. The rest went over his head, cool, like a blessing. He sighed in relief as the water trickled down his hair, eased the sticky sensation of sweat clinging to his skin.

She threw him something else. It slid across the floor and clattered to a halt at his feet. He bent down and picked it up.

His sword, the one he’d left at the storage area. Not the mysterious sword Asterion had received from that contact of his, the one that Cang Lu had once wielded. Not Regicide, but his sword. He picked it up. His callused hand fit comfortably around the battered hilt.

It had accompanied him through many years of service to the Empire. He’d cared for it with all the attention a soldier was to pay to his kit; had painstakingly smoothed out the nicks and notches with the whetstone, had polished it and kept it clean from rust.

A rasp of a sword against its scabbard. The Striker had drawn her sword.

He was exhausted, and emotionally spent. He’d been hitting the target for the better part of the night and it was late.

He raised an eyebrow, drew and slipped into a guard stance.

“They say you are one of the best,” she said. “Show me.”

They were both warriors, Kartesh thought. They did not need words to understand one another, to understand what was playing out here. At least one of them would not leave this room alive.

It was a gift, in a way. To be able to choose his end. He had dreaded it; the sharp shock of a crossbow bolt puncturing his lung, piercing his sternum, ending him. Rather a blade, he thought. Rather a fight.

He’d fought all his life.

He recognised her sword stance; another trained soldier-turned duelist, a mirror of his.

He stepped forward and attacked.

 

 

They were following him. Trying to kill him.

He knew. It was painfully obvious, the way the Strikers at the marketplace had attempted to follow him. You didn’t get to be one of the best bodyguards without learning total awareness of your surroundings. They tried, of course. They removed their uniforms, hid away their swords. But it was still too obvious. The way they carried themselves: watchful, erect, and proud; the way they glanced sharply at their surroundings, even their walk—almost an arrogant saunter.

Sir Edonar did not think of what he was doing as hiding. A bodyguard walked that dangerously fine line between honour and practicality. That meant anything was allowed—kicking a foe between the legs, teaching your principal to take cover at the slightest sign of threat, always pushing yourself between the one you were protecting and a prospective foe.

He was drawing them off, leading them on a merry chase. After all, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

And he was most definitely aware of the hidden crossbowmen attempting to draw a bead on him as he headed towards his most recent safehouse.

It’d taken them twice as long as he’d expected to find it, too. He made a note to be less meticulous in future.

He looked up, and smiled and burned iron and steel.

The steel-tipped armour-piercing bolts from the repeating crossbow whipped away, deflected—to them, it appeared to be from an unseen force.

The crossbowmen cursed, a moment before Sir Edonar flicked open his folding knife and slashed the coin purse he was carrying. A shower of coins streaked towards them, whipping through their chests in a flurry of blood.

The crossbowmen toppled from the roofing.

He turned, slowly.

The Strikers were already cursing, already racing towards him, fumbling in their voluminous scholars’ robes for the hidden swords they carried.

Sir Edonar waited.

Calm.

The Blade formed in his hand, ten heartbeats later, lethal, glittering, beautiful.

The light glinted off the spikes driven into his eyes.

 

 

Ashim was playing with the bone-carved chess pieces. It had been a long game, taking shape before him. The complex beauty of the game had given way to more typical, pedestrian moves.

“Check,” he said.

The skeletal sitting across him clacked sharpened teeth in a frustrated sound, and mutely moved a different piece.

“Arbiter takes pawn,” Ashim said. He picked up the offending piece, frowned at it. The ground-up paste of ashes used to stain the bone was fading, he thought. But the bone was no longer pale, but a curious admixture of mahogany and ivory.

He was, all things considered, awfully calm about this.

He felt it, the moment it happened; the backlash of one of his skeletals being destroyed. He hesitated, and then set down the pawn he’d been holding, beyond the edges of the chessboard.

There were two options, mostly.

He dismissed one of them.

“So, Glory and Heritage then,” he said, aloud. It was not unexpected. They had taken him among them, and expected him to work for their ends, and now planned on killing him for his refusal. Among other reasons.

He picked up the Arbiter, flipped it over to reveal the seal he’d carved into the piece. It was a little amusement of his, this chessboard of seals.

He would need some blood.

A flash of pain as he cut himself. It was a shallow cut, across the palm. He let the blood pool, feathering out into the lines of his palm and inked the seal.

He could not fight them; not all of them. Not the collective resources of Glory and Heritage. But he’d always wanted to see how he’d fare against two of his countrymen.

 

 

Some things ended, that night. And some things began.

The emergency session of Factions that gathered in the Theatre of Address was unprecedented. The man who had summoned them waited, patient.

“You overstep yourself, Gamman,” said Nareska, the Arbiter of the Discovery Faction. A tall figure, intimidating, disapproving, but ultimately, politically insignificant.

“You have lost every right to claim credibility,” Gamman replied. “Was it your Faction not involved in the open warfare that followed the Emperor’s death? It’s simply disgraceful, Nareska, and you know you have no leg to stand on. Not any longer.”

“They’re renegades,” Nareska retorted. “We cast them out from the fold a long time ago. You surely remember.” Murmurs of disapproval—critically, directed at her, rather than at Gamman—followed her statement.

Gamman shrugged, carelessly. He said, “Surely you know that such a meeting that never happened. Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to claim to know what was happening to your Faction.”

“Enough with Nareska!” cried one of the other arbiters; this one from a minor faction, occasionally affiliated with Reform. It mattered, Kwai thought. It mattered very much, this night. It had to seem smooth, unorchestrated. “Where is Glory? Where is Heritage?”

“Gone,” Gamman answered. “And so I have summoned all of you here today.” His eyes flicked to Nareska. “If I overstep myself, the gravity of the situation compels me. Moderation has been destroyed; Arbiter Renzu has fled, or disappeared. It is unclear which. Discovery has—” he raised a hand, refusing to yield to Nareska’s outcry of protest, “—been cleansed, if such a term may be used. And where do Glory and Heritage stand? By each other’s side. In the midst of all this slaughter.”

“Enough games, Gamman!” one of the arbiters cried out.

Gamman whirled on him. “Tell me, then: where are our missing Factions? Have you been living with your head in the sand for the past days? Have you noticed what has become of Moderation? Factions do not simply disappear, Shanglen! They are broken, exterminated. That is what has become of Moderation. And Glory and Heritage are behind this.” He looked across the Theatre, from where he stood at the podium. Met each one of them in the eye.

Almost, Kwai thought. Almost.

“Will you stand for this? Will you wait for them to decide to take by force what they cannot have from us? Our votes? Our voices?”

“They would not dare!” Shanglen retorted. “This has not been done before in the history of the Empire!” He glanced around him, seeming to sense that he was, inexplicably, a lone voice in a sea of faces.

“And that will stop them,” Gamman said, dryly. He applauded; a soft, mocking clap that seemed to cut the silence. “Tell that to Moderation. A Faction has not been brutally slaughtered in the history of the Empire.”

Silence.

Now, Kwai thought. It had to happen now.

He hesitated.

But sometimes, the world didn’t wait for choices; events swept you up with them, and all you could do was to ride them out. So it was that Kwai watched as another arbiter cried out, “We must vote now! I nominate Gamman for Emperor!”

“Gamman for the Rose Throne!”

“Gamman!”

In the sea of acclaim, Kwai stood, and watched, as Gamman nodded and thanked each of his supporters. The votes passed swiftly.

And at the end of it, the newly-annointed Emperor gazed across the room, seeming to locate Kwai in the crowd. He nodded; a minute gesture.

Kwai slipped away.

 

 

Wenshon found him, making the finishing touches to the painting in the cellar. “He didn’t need me,” Kwai said.

“He played them all,” Wenshon said. “Expertly.”

“I know,” Kwai said. He looked at Wenshon. “He wanted me to do it. To kill Frava and Urskevan. I refused.” His hand went, for a moment, to his shoulder. A curious gesture, that. Wenshon said nothing. “We choose, who we are. Every moment, every day. I chose to walk away.”

Wenshon nodded, wordlessly.

Together, they admired the painting, complete at last.

Kaleva, a calm figure, with an inscrutable smile. Yazad; radiant with health, skin bronzed—painted as a simple man; more a builder than an Emperor. The man who knew MaiPon poets, who was conversant with three languages.

Who had wanted, more than anything, to build a stronger Empire: one that would last the challenges that came its way.

It was, Kwai thought, what mattered. It was something; his own pebble stacked against the avalanche of history.

“Tea?” Wenshon finally asked, gruffly. He scrubbed roughly at an eye.

Kwai’s voice was equally rough. “Yes,” he said, at last. “I’d like to.”
 

---

Post coming shortly after; the short of it is that I have talked to Gamma and he has talked to Meta and Wilson and the decision has been to call the game. There are many reasons for this: some of them include how long the game has extended and the increasing inactivity. With the death of Aonar this cycle and the overwhelming decision for a Joint Victory, there would be no way for Discovery to resist. In addition, it would merely drag out a game that has already extended far longer than an MR should.

I admit; I signed up to GM a MR, not a LG. It has been challenging, in more than some ways. I did expect unexpected things to happen, but things took a different change once the associated costs with this game overrunning came about. Things like being over a week overdue on my paid work. Things like being late on my thesis and having to begin yet another job tomorrow. I have borne the costs to myself with little comment for the past few cycles. It has, at this point, I feel, reached the point where I can no longer ignore the mounting RL costs to myself--and that the game is so indubitably won for Glory and Heritage that there is no point in further dragging this out in such a damaging fashion. In addition, I have noticed players, too, are growing weary with the game. These were the factors voiced and taken into consideration in my calling this.

I understand that this might not be a decision that is uncontroversial. To temper this, I should note that I have had myself removed from the active GM lists. I do not feel that I am in a position where I am able to or should be allowed to GM, regardless of whether it is a Faction or a regular game.

As it stands, it is a Joint Victory for Glory and for Heritage. Will do a longer analysis post in a bit. Here are the links to the relevant docs:
 
Dead Doc
Discovery Doc
Glory Faction
Heritage Faction
Moderation Faction
Spec Doc
Master Spreadsheet

[N.B. Kas from 2021 - Edited in cycle titles and note that doc links have been lost with my old drive. RIP.]

Edited July 5, 2021 by Kasimir

[Orlok Tsubodai]

Kas, you have absolutely no reason to feel in any way guilty about calling the game - I think I can say I speak for us all when I say that you are absolutely right to put your own real life concerns above running a game on a forum, and I'm sure I'm not alone in hoping you swiftly sort out the problems you are having!

Further, I don't think there to be any reason for you to take yourself off the GM lists - unless you do not wish to run another game; you have been an excellent GM, with fantastic write ups!

I have very much enjoyed this game, and think it has been a really interesting format - and so would like to thank you for running this game!

Edited July 23, 2015 by OrlokTsubodai

[Wyrmhero]

Don't beat yourself up about this, Kas. None of us caught the issues that lead to this situation until well into the game, so the 'blame' isn't yours alone. As you can probably tell, I wouldn't even use the word 'blame' here, because it's not helpful and I don't think you or anyone else is at fault for this situation. You dealt with this as best you could, and I think you dealt with it well, considering the unfortunate circumstances that led to this. You were a good GM, answering questions and present when you were needed. I know how much you've agonised over what to do this game, and you should know that I feel you did well, and I think most of us would have done something similar in your situation.

 

It's not a bad idea to call the game either, considering the situation Discovery's in and your workload. I've said this for almost eight years, whenever I've talked to people who are busy online, and I'll say it here again: Life comes first. Ultimately, this is all for our enjoyment, and sometimes sacrifices must be made. You didn't expect the game to run this long, and so I feel it's perfectly fair for you to call an end to it. Considering how much it sounds like is going on over there, I think we would have been perfectly understanding if you to called it earlier, so you could get things in order. We don't blame you for it. But regardless, it's over now, and you don't have to worry about it anymore.

 

Once again, don't beat yourself up about it. Mistakes can be made, and so can oversights. That's fine. But as I've told you multiple times already, I don't feel you have to leave the SE community. Perhaps take a break while you deal with your workload, sure, and maybe wait before thinking about GMing again, but I think know a lot of us would miss you if you stopped playing games for the foreseeable future.

 

So as I've said, don't beat yourself up about it. It's not your fault, and none of us are going to hold a grudge over this. Thank you for running the game for as long as you did. I enjoyed it, and I had a lot of fun being on the hidden team again, despite my early demise.

Edited July 23, 2015 by Wyrmhero

[Zephrer]

I say we all give Kas a round of applause.

It's not easy to GM any kind of RPG, But even with all of the drama and stressful situations in this MR, Kas handled it masterfully.

Thank you Kas for GMing this game, It's been fantastic, and I hope you reconsider your not GMing any games, as you are quite fully capable of it, and do a great job at it. 

At very least, I hope to play with you again in another SE game.

[Seonid]

A second round of appreciation for Kas. You've been an excellent GM. If you don't feel like you want to GM another game, that's alright - do what you need to do for your own health - but don't imagine that any of us think you were anything but an excellent GM. I know I'd sign up for any other game you GM'ed like a shot. This has been an incredibly fun game. It had its weaknesses, sure, but all games do. And your patches were the right thing for the time.

 

And I certainly hope to play more games with you in the future, whether or not you end up GM-ing again. After all, if I ever do decide to run my Stormlight faction game, I need advice from the best, right?

[Araris Valerian]

I agree with all of the above. I really appreciate the time you took to GM this game, especially because of your RL conflicts. Thank you for everything you did and I hope to kill you sometime soon .

[Seonid]

And I just read the dead doc, and it looks like I became a rather unpopular player...

That's rather disturbing, actually. I'd rather not go down in the SE history books as a player that's not fun to play around.

 

So, I guess, sorry Wilson? I'll have you know that I advocated for bribing you instead of killing you. I wasn't on when Emerald finally got on and picked targets, so I had no say in that. I tried (successfully) to save you from Joe's kill, redirecting it onto Wyrm. Also, a second belated apology for not protecting you in the last LG. If it helps, you managed to make me feel guilty for winning this game when you lost the last one...

 

Also, sorry to both Emerald and Eowyn. In the first case, I wanted to do something to prevent being ganged up on by the other two factions. It was poorly played. I felt rushed, and didn't give you enough time in the doc to come and offer a defense. If I had to do anything over this game, I'd redo that.

 

To Eowyn, again sorry. I was played. Badly. I don't know how I missed that Shallan could be the Striker. I thought that we had a kill go through after she had been bribed, but I misinterpreted that. It made me certain that you were discovery. Enough to put a kill on you. I wouldn't redo it, because it was a good decision based on the information I had at the time. I was going to roleblock someone in Moderation anyways, to stop their bribe ability, because I was worried about the wild card ability that they had to change the balance between Glory and Heritage. I picked you because if I wanted to use the kill (and I didn't want it wasted), I had to use it on the person that I roleblocked, and I would have felt too guilty about killing someone on a faction that had no chance of winning when we could have bribed them instead, so I killed the person I thought was Discovery (who we couldn't bribe, and therefore I didn't feel guilty about killing). And I was wrong.

 

Also, I apologize to folks for my hyperactive altruism. It has no place in a faction game. Maybe it means I'm not suited to play faction games, and should just stick to regular Elimination games...

 

Or maybe just Faction games that don't have bribing. Or maybe the bribing mechanic was a problem

 

Either way, I recognize that I was a part of the problem. Sorry about that. I've apologized to Kas several times now, but the rest of the thread probably deserves it.

 

I don't apologize to Discovery. While you were a threat at the beginning, later on, you were just a convenient scapegoat to keep the other factions attention. It almost worked. Kind of. It kept the other factions away from us while we built up for the faction war (you know, the one that went out more with a whimper than a bang). And if I hadn't totally missed Shallan being the Striker, Heritage would have won hands down. On that note, though, well played Zephrer. You had me thoroughly convinced. You managed to con me in the doc and in RL, and that takes some doing.

[Kipper]

Wait, did Aonar kill himself?

And thanks to Kas for putting up with us. Every praise I have has already been said, so I'll just duck out now.

Edit:

Aonar, I wasn't actually going to negotiate with you, but I'm sure you knew that. It was just a fun little thing to troll each other since I was bored.

And I don't think I was being cocky. If anything, I was looking over and over at my plan to see if anything was missing. And in truth, I completely forgot that you still had a Skeletal kill. I still think we could have pulled off the victory, but I'm fine with this, ultimately, as I can finally begin to pay attention to the LG.

Cheers, all, and thanks for the game.

Edited July 23, 2015 by Kipper