LG74: You Want It Darker

[Kasimir Lerasium Mistborn]

Back in Tremredare, the precinct had a saying. Watch gets called out for anything—a stabbing, a brawl, the sort of drek that ends up with someone iced and floating facedown in the canal in the morning, the sarge always asks: “Did you check the intimates?”

Get your mind out of the gutter. Thing is, when it comes to murder most foul, there’s only so many possibilities: the wife who’s had enough, the controlling husband, the possessive ex, the violent brother, the angry sister, the debt-ridden friend, the disgruntled business associate, the former colleague with a grudge… And so the circle expands, layer by layer. But you always check the intimates, first.

It’s those closest to us that we don’t see the most clearly. Who have the power to hurt us the most.

We trust them. And so we let them in. We tell them our deepest secrets, our darkest fears. We laugh with them, work with them, drink with them. We stay in the same building, rub shoulders every dawn and dusk. It’s surprising, what the intimates know about a person. A good investigator always hits the street and starts listening first, rather than talking. You can learn a lot about the vic that way. Who they were, what the people closest to them thought. Maybe you can’t ever really know a person, but their intimates are your window into their life, their character.

We see but through this window darkly. Still, it’s better than dead nothing. Investigation’s gotta start somewhere.

The intimates. We let our guard down around them.

That’s why betrayal always cuts deepest, doesn’t it?

In the end, it's not strangers who cause so much suffering. It's those close to us.

 

 

It began, as these things often did, with a knock on the door, at dawn.

No rest for the wicked, as the saying went. It was far too early, and the dawn light that poured in through the cracks in the shutters was a thin, bleak grey. The candle sputtered and flickered, throwing shadows over the confines of the office and its single occupant.

Blinking blearily, Kast stared at the case file he was trying to close and wondered if it was worth the effort of getting up and answering it. A dark case, that one. He hated working missing persons cases, but they’d flipped for it, and Wyl had won, and that meant his business partner was up at the arse-crack of dawn looking into a cheating case to do with five ducks, and Kast was in the office, wondering if he felt like answering the door today.

Somedays, it felt like it wasn’t worth the effort.

Missing persons cases. They got under your skin. 

Her name was Lu. Rumours that she was somehow connected to Cat Lekal, but Kast didn’t believe them for a second. You didn’t come all the way to the remote reaches of the Western Dominance to hide from the games the nobles played. Better places to hide elsewhere in the Final Empire, with the sorts of luxuries the nobles seemed accustomed to.

The brother was the one who’d reported her missing. He’d come all the way from Gamsbrook to speak with them. Wyl hadn’t liked it.

“Long way to walk, just to talk to us,” he’d said, lighting up his pipe. Busying himself with the familiar motions of flint and herbs. 

“You blame him?” Kast raised an eyebrow. “Desperation drives people to do stupid things. You know this.”

“Bah,” said Wyl, eloquently. And then, “There’s stupid, and there’s no damnfool reason.”

He saw the resemblance, in the sketch they’d been given. Kast thought it’d been seared into his memory, by now. The wary way Lu glanced out at you from the sketch. There was that tentativeness, the hesitancy. You saw it too, in the way the brother had perched at the edge of his seat. Hadn’t felt at ease around them. Maybe that should’ve been the first sign.

Told you so, Wyl had scribbled on the back of a receipt from the grocer's and stuffed into the case file. Kast marked it as SOLVED, even though they weren’t going to see a single clip for it. They shouldn’t have taken the case, he thought. But missing persons cases. They spoke to you. He didn’t think it right, that people could go missing, could wander off the face of the world and drop off into vast emptiness with not a soul to worry or care about them.

Call him sentimental, he supposed. He didn’t think that anyone should be lost, just like that. 

Someone had to go looking. Knock on the dark spaces of the world. Sometimes these spaces gave up, surrendered the people they’d eaten. Sometimes the darkness was hungry.

Sometimes it felt like they were just trying to stop the tide with a shovel. There was an ocean out there, enough to drown in. Kast’d been to Lansing once, a very long time ago. He’d seen the ocean, and wondered at what lay there, beyond such immensity.

Sometimes, the darkness was just what lurked in the recesses of the human heart.

He’d gone out to the woods, and dug, where the marker was, and he’d found her, and part of Kast wished he hadn’t, wished she’d remained lost, because there was a certain finality to finding a body, or bones. And although there was agony to never knowing, you could often console yourself, that they were alive, somehow. People vanished for reasons of their own, all the time. People vanished everyday on the streets of Tremredare and they’d solved only a tiny fraction of these and they gnawed on your conscience, both the dead and the lost. No matter how hardened you were, how bitter, how much drek you saw on the streets of Tremredare, you never quite let go of that hope. Kast’d seen street-crusted veterans head outside for a smoke and then quietly fall apart in solitude when hours turned into days, and then that lost child turned up murdered.

But he’d found her bones, and he’d done the dirty work, the work a good investigator was supposed to do. He’d hit Gamsbrook, and knocked on doors and listened. And he’d done some careful surveillance of his own. Long nights. He wasn’t getting any younger.

It’d been a dispute over money. The brother was deep in debt, and trying to shake off suspicions that he’d killed her. He buried her out there, deep in the woods, but then he’d been seen, and then they’d gotten him to talk. You did what you had to. There were always ways.

The intimates, Kast thought. You always had to talk to the intimates. And sometimes...Sometimes, it was those closest to you that held the knife.

People always thought about danger as coming from without. But the most terrible sins were not committed by strangers but by one who wore the face of a loved one.

Not for the first time in the past decade, Kast Speirs wondered wearily how he had come—not so much come, as fallen, he supposed—from the Tremredare City Watch to running a small investigation business in the arse-end of the Western Dominance.

The knocking on the door grew brisk, a staccato series of sharp knocks. Right. There was no point in putting it off, any longer.

“Coming!” Kast growled. He shut the case file, and reached out for his cane. There was the familiar pain, grinding in his knee and hip like shards of smashed glass as he got up, but at least the cane took the worst of it. It was looking to be one of those days again. He measured the paces to the shutters in familiar stabs of pain as his body kept the score.

They’d set the office up on the second floor, and not for the first time, Kast questioned the wisdom of that decision. But he’d been younger, then. And his leg hadn’t been that bad.

“What is it?” Kast snarled, cracking open the shutters. He blinked owlishly in the morning light.

He recognised Douza, the blacksmith’s boy. Far as Kast heard, Douza wasn’t keen on the trade. One of the worst-kept secrets in Fallion’s Tears, as it were. Worse secrets lurked in this village. 

“You’re wanted!” Douza called up, cupping his hands about his mouth.

“What for?” Kast snapped back.

“Another murder! By the tanner’s!”

“Get Wyl!”

What was the point of having a business partner if he couldn’t get on his feet and read the crime scene every once in a while? Part of Kast regretted the thought: it was best to get as many eyes on the scene as possible. Likely as not, they’d pick up on something each other missed. That was how they worked. Why they went into business together, among many other things.

Secrets. You couldn’t get anywhere in this village without stumbling into one. It was Kast’s job to know things, and to ferret out things people’d rather he didn’t, after all. 

“Mayor says to get you too!” Douza shouted up. “And Wyl says to tell you to get!”

Kast sighed. So that was how it was going to be. Wyl wasn’t the sort to send out a whistle for a lark. Never had been. And damnit, Kast trusted his judgement.

“Tell them I’m coming.”

 

 

Flakes of ash fell from the iron-grey sky. They dusted everything in a thin coat, even as the cold wind dashed them into broad glass windows and shutters. The low buildings of the village bunched together, as if hunkering down against the assault from the windward slopes of the mountains.

The last of the night mists wreathed both land and mountains, but had begun to thin, and to dissipate with the light. The red sun bathed the mountain slopes in a ruddy glow, like freshly-fallen embers. Kast wanted to stop, to take in the view, but there was no time for it.

Fallion’s Tears was quiet in the early morning light, and for a while, Kast allowed himself to believe he was the only one soldiering on, cane pressing into gravel and dirt. A wisp of smoke curled upwards from the tavern, while the blacksmith’s forge had gone cold. The metallurgist’s shop was shuttered, and even the customary line at the grocer’s or baker’s was missing.

Slivers of pain stabbed into him with each step. It was getting worse. He resigned himself to another visit to the apothecary. Eventually. After he closed the other five cases waiting for him, back in that study. And after getting the milk. And he had to go out and walk the ground, get a feel for what happened with the Leas Fel case.

The mountains rose up, an intimidating and jagged wall, wherever you looked. Nestled on the slopes, you could make out the ashmount Morag as well, on a clear day, the sort where the air was crisp and the sky the hue of pale fire.

Fallion’s Tears was the sort of place where nothing happened. It hadn’t seemed a bad place to settle down in, and even though there were days the work ran thin, Kast rather thought he preferred that to drowning in the stabbing, assault, robbery, and rioting cases that seemed rife in Tremredare. He liked the quiet, and felt the stillness soothe the restless part of him that never stopped looking for the next threat.

Fallion’s Tears was the sort of place you came to forget what life made you and to bury your wounds and ghosts. He limped on.

The question of where everyone was soon became clear. A throng of villagers gathered around the tanner’s, on the outskirts of the village. Gawkers, no doubt. Drawn by curiosity, because it sure as hell wasn’t the stench of the drying hides. 

He worked his way through the crowd, step by painful step.

“Took you long enough,” Wyl said. He was studying the corpse. Kast took a quick glance around. There was no real watch in Fallion’s Tears, just a band of volunteers who more or less overlapped with what the village called a militia. These were currently holding the crowd back, which Kast was at least grateful for. The last thing they needed was the scene to be contaminated.

“Sorry, got held up. You know what precinct traffic’s like at this time of the night.”

The doctor was nowhere in sight, which Kast supposed could mean anything. No sign of Mayor Wilson either, which didn’t seem right, given Douza had come in a hurry to get him.

“Right, wisearse,” Wyl’s sidelong glance was both mildly amused and judgemental. “What do you make of this?”

“You didn’t get Douza to pull me all the way here for any old murder,” Kast muttered resentfully, but he was already here, and so he grudgingly worked the scene. Vic was Bartholomew—he recognised the build and the wild beard, and suppressed the immediate flicker of empathy. That came later. Blood pooled on the dirt, sticky, but some of it drying. Dead for a while then, best as Kast could make out. If Wyl wanted a time of death, he was better off waiting for the doctor.

The thing that struck Kast though was how horrific it was. Blood everywhere, some of it plastered on the sides of the tanner’s shed, and daubed everywhere, in the dirt, on the wooden walls of the shed, and even the shutters:

KILL YOU ALL

EVERYONE GONNA DIE

An indecipherable mess of sticky blood, and then:

WHEN THE KOLOSS COME

“Koloss?” Kast murmured, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “Not without the Lord Ruler’s say-so, surely.”

“Been rumours,” Wyl said. “Haven’t you been listening? That traveller who came through the other week. Mists-addled, they say. Raving about a wild band of koloss.”

“You don’t put much stock in it, either.”

“Suppose I don’t,” Wyl said. He stuck his pipe in his mouth and kindled a flame. He took a long drag from it, exhaling pungent smoke. “Well, what else’ve you got?”

Kast turned back to his examination of the scene.

“More staged than the Leas Fel one.” Leas Fel—they’d assumed it was a stabbing but it hadn’t felt right, and then now another one on top of that. Fallion’s Tears wasn’t a large village. Most of those here knew each other all their lives and it had taken years for them to accept the duo from Tremredare among their number. Sometimes, Kast wondered if they’d really made it at all.

“You don’t say,” Wyl cocked an eyebrow at him. “Any more words of wisdom, then?”

Anger flared. Probably didn’t help that his leg still hated him. “Why don’t you stop the damned fishing expedition and just tell me why the hell you had me brought here,” Kast said, trying to get ahold of his temper. “There’s ‘don’t contaminate the investigator’ and there’s being bloody cryptic for no bloody good reason.”

“It’s a murder,” Wyl said. “Obviously. Within a week of the last one. Almost never happens here. That’s almost immediately cause for concern.”

“Yeah.”

“And the daubings. Meant to terrify, as you rightly noticed. It’s staged, almost ritualistic.”

Kast folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the cane. “Still not getting to the point,” he said, shortly.

“Indulge me,” Wyl said, “For a few moments more. Look at the body.”

Kast breathed in deep and reigned in his temper. He looked at Bartholomew’s corpse. Reluctantly, he knelt, gripping the cane, and fighting against the screams of pain from his bad leg. He saw signs of a struggle: the broken fingers, and bruising. Staining on Bartholomew’s hands made it difficult to tell if it was blood under his nails or just pigment. 

“Same MO,” Kast said, eventually. “Chest wound, with significant blood loss at the scene. Staged, but Bartholomew actually died here.” He frowned. There was the gleam of something metallic, glinting a sullen ochre in the morning light. He reached out and moved the body enough to dislodge it, and his heart nearly stopped. It was a sharp, gleaming metallic object, about half as thick as Bartholomew’s wrists, tapering to a lethal point. It was a spike, the sort you saw in Steel Inquisitors. Unmistakeable.

A spike. A fecking, Lord Ruler-cursed spike.

Kast had never wanted to see anything like that in his life again.

He knew then, why Wyl had insisted. Of the two of them, he was the one who had the dubious benefit of experience in this instance. Memories Kast would rather remain buried. It was the past, and it was dead now. Why not let it stay dead? But the present wouldn’t let them, Kast thought sourly. And there was the matter of what the present owed the past. And Wilson—as Mayor, her instinct would be to preserve calm. The whispers had already started, infesting the village of Fallion’s Tears with fear. Exactly as the perpetrators had planned.

“I think,” he said, almost-conversationally, “This must be the worst thing you’ve ever had me take a look at, partner.”

KILL YOU ALL. EVERYONE GONNA DIE. WHEN THE KOLOSS COME.

Wyl smirked, and the corners of his tired eyes thawed, just a little. “You’re welcome. I still owed you one for that outhouse. Spent hours digging through drek just to find the missing lockbox. You’re a real arse when you want to be.”

“Sure,” said Kast, absently. He stared again at the blood-encrusted spike. Bartholomew had died for this. Kast knew he kept a vial of bronze locked in his drawer at all times. What did the killers want with a Seeker? And why had the spike been left behind? There were so many questions, and the trick (always the trick) was to find the answers before the killer—or killers—escalated again.

But as the sun rose over the village of Fallion’s Tears, and the new day was birthed in bloody light, Kast thought he heard only the harsh caw of distant crows.

 

LG74: You Want It Darker (aka a homage to Meta's game and tradition)

“If you are the dealer,
I’m out of the game [...]
If thine is the glory then,
Mine must be the shame
You want it darker
We kill the flame.”

—’You Want It Darker’, Leonard Cohen

Tucked away in a desolate corner of the Western Dominance, as far as the crow flies from Tremredare in the West, House Heron’s traditional seat of power, the quiet village of Fallion’s Tears has recently been shocked by a series of gruesome murders.

Mayor Wilson has appealed for calm, even as outlandish rumours abound of a warband of koloss heading in the direction of Fallion’s Tears. 

Nothing ever happens in Fallion’s Tears, they say. Pity everything started happening all at once. First those awful murders, and then all that talk of koloss. But who among you could’ve committed such a terrible act? You’ve known each other most your lives—haven’t you?

What buried ghosts from your past will emerge in the ashen light of the red sun? There’s always another secret. And everyone has a past, or so they say.

When will yours catch up with you?

 

 

General Rules:

Spoiler

1. This game is a standard OG LG, with 48 hour days, and 24 hour nights. PMs are closed until or unless I tell you otherwise. PMs should include the GM. Do not include the IM @little wilson.

2. Voting is to be done in the thread. There is a minimum threshold of two votes for interrogations interviews to take place. Ties will result in no interview interrogation taking place. Please colour-code your interview votes as follows: Wyrmhero [red and bold]. Retract your interview votes as follows: Wyrmhero [green and bold]. Please clearly indicate retractions. I cannot guarantee I will catch an unclear retraction. You are required to retract votes if you want me to accept new ones.

3. The Spiked know who each other are and the roles they have, and will have access to a faction doc to coordinate. In addition, every Night, the Spiked may send in a kill order.

4. Write-ups will be minimally informative. At this point, the only thing the write-up will announce accurately are the roles and alignment of the deceased. It will also differentiate between a Spiked kill and a Coinshot/Mistborn kill. Otherwise, the write-up should not be regarded as an accurate guide to what actually happened. I intend to take full creative liberties and will not be held responsible for any confusion, false assumptions, or damages resulting from treating the write-up like the Holy Word of Wyrm. There may be Shardblade duels.

5. The Order of Actions at Night is as follows:

-Smoker
-Seeker
-Lurcher
-Coinshot/Kills

6. Please @ me for clarificatory questions in thread, and bold them so I will pick them out. For clarificatory questions in PM and doc, please bold them. While I will do my best to get to all questions in a timely manner, my priority will be to address rule clarifications asked in the stipulated manner. (This also guarantees I won’t derp and miss them.)

7. Cosmetic roles may be freely adopted by players as RP commitments and adjusted to their liking. They may or may not contain Tyrian Falls easter eggs  And I will not be holding players accountable to the cosmetic roles they adopt - feel free to create your own, and just have fun!  

8. Turns will close at 2300hrs SGT (GMT+8), giving me an hour to complete the rollover.

 

 

 

Factions:

Spoiler

The Villagers: Your goal is to rid your town of the Spiked hiding among you so you can protect yourself from the rampaging Koloss (if they exist.) You win when all of the Spiked are dead and gone.

The Spiked: You are servants of Ruin, who is guiding you on your quest to hamper the Villagers. Whether it is just because of Ruin's desire to see everything destroyed or if the destruction of this village plays some bigger part, you don't know. You win when you outnumber the Villagers and can thus take over the town.

 

 

Roles:

Spoiler

Thug: They can survive a single attack. If they are killed during a night or day cycle, they survive and this will be revealed in the write up. If they are attacked again, they die; finally.

Tineye: They are messengers and are capable of writing messages to the town while remaining anonymous. Each night, they can send a message to the Game Master. He will then post it within the write up at the end of the night. As long as the Tineye is alive, players can send Private Messages back and forth. Once he dies, he can no longer deliver messages, so no more PMs.

Smoker: The Smoker shows up as a regular Villager and he can extend this power to one other person each night. If scanned by a Seeker, the Smoker or the person encompassed within his coppercloud will show up as regular Villagers. Alternatively, the Smoker can turn his coppercloud off. This would allow them to be scanned. In addition, the Smoker and his target are unaffected by emotional Allomancy. As long as the Smoker is using their coppercloud, the Soother and Rioter cannot change their votes.

Seeker: The Seeker can sense when someone is burning metals. In fact, he/she has gotten so good that they can tell whether someone is spiked or not! Once per night, the Seeker can target someone to learn their abilities and alignment.

Coinshot: The Coinshot does what they do best. They push metals around; specifically into other people's bodies. Once per night, the Coinshot can target a person for death. Unless otherwise disrupted, that person dies.

Lurcher: Where the Coinshot pushes, the Lurcher pulls. Once per night the Lurcher can target someone and that person will be saved from death.

Soother: Their ability to dampen emotions puts them and the Rioter in a very special position. During any time during the day round (up until the round ends), they can negate one person's vote. The change will be anonymous, but since I will be posting voting results at the end of each day, those that are observant should be able to tell whose votes were changed.

Rioter: The Rioter works in a similar fashion as the Soother, except once during the day round they can change one person's vote. Using this power does nullify their own vote though. They are still capable of voting, but their vote will not be counted. The change itself will be anonymous, but since I will be posting voting results at the end of each day, those that are observant should be able to tell whose votes were changed.

Mistborn: The Mistborn have the abilities of all of the above, but will only be able to use one per cycle. At the beginning of every day, the Mistborn will be told which ability they have and it's the only ability they have until the next day.

Regular Villager: You have no special powers, but you still get a vote every day. Who knows? Perhaps you were meant to be the one to save the town! Not all stories are about the strongest people in a group.

Spiked: Beyond possibly having one of the above roles, you can hear Ruin talking to you. He's told you who else in the town is spiked and together you're to keep the town from mounting a defense before the Koloss arrive. (Will they?) In return, you will be spared. Your goal is to kill one person per night until you outnumber the villagers

 

 

 

Cosmetic Roles:

Spoiler

The Artist: No one ever said being an artist was easy. A remote village in the far flung wilderness of the Western Dominance seemed just the place to seek artistic inspiration, away from the bustle of Tremredare. Every cycle, you should post once about your latest attempted work of art.

The Alchemist: Who needs safety regulations? You and the villagers of Fallion’s Tears, that’s who doesn’t. Moving to Fallion’s Tears to set up shop appears to have been an excellent life decision. Every cycle, you should post once about your latest alchemical disaster explorations.

The Courier: You run messages out of Luthadel for the Lord Prelan Tevidian himself. How did you ever get stuck in Fallion’s Tears? Every cycle, you should post once about making deliveries and passing messages for Lord Tevidian. Beware heights.

The Cobbler: Every village needs someone dedicated to the thankless task of resuscitating the footwear that is regularly abused by its inhabitants. That person, it appears, is you. Every cycle, you should post about the footwear you rescue, you everyday hero you. Beware beetles.

The Scholar: You are the village scholar. Why are you staying in a backwater like Fallion’s Tears? Who knows. Your knowledge is respected...as are your mad organisational skills. Every cycle, you should post once about Lists. Because Lists fix everything! And you are the prophet of Lists.

The Storyteller: You are a travelling storyteller, and your story has brought you to Fallion’s Tears. Every cycle, you should attempt to tell someone a story. (This can be in fragments, rather than an entire thing.)

The Landlord: Who’s the latest real estate tycoon in Fallion’s Tears? Clearly, that’s you. Lord Rulah! You aim to corner the admittedly horrific real estate market by hook or by crook. Every cycle, you should attempt to squeeze or otherwise cajole money out of your tenants.

The Magician: Announcing...the Amazing! The one and only! Master of Prestidigitation and Sleight of Hand! You! You take your travelling stage magic show all around the Final Empire. Every cycle, you should perform some magic trick or other—just make sure you get paid. After all, if they kill you, you’ll become more amazing than ever!

The Metallurgist: Even a village like Fallion’s Tears needs someone capable of mixing metals for Allomancers. (Even if not every single person in Fallion’s Tears is an Allomancer...are they?) Every cycle, you should post about finding customers for your metal vials.

The Gambler: Every village needs a resident drunkard and gambler. That person is you. You’ve never found a gamble you won’t take, and don’t nobody tell you the odds! Every cycle, you should get drunk, or make a bet with someone.

The Duck Wrangler: You are the resident duck wrangler. The daunting task of wrangling the native duck population of Fallion’s Tears and preventing the Quackening is yours. Will you prove the salvation of the village? Or simply...quackers? Every cycle, you should get at least three ducks in order.

 

 

I wish to acknowledge some friends and colleagues who helped me with the rules of this game. Credit for the original ruleset goes, as always, to @Metacognition, as this is based off LG1 and the three successive AGs. The Committee offered helpful suggestions that tamed the thicket of decisions. I am especially grateful to @Wyrmhero, @Claincy, and @Mailliw73 for providing invaluable comments that helped eliminate mistakes and improve the game in numerous places. I am grateful for their generosity. If any mistakes remain, the reader may look these esteemed professors up and ask them why they did not correct them.

Sign-ups are open now and will close on Friday, 26th February 2021, at 2300hrs SGT (GMT +8).

Quick Links:

Spoiler

Day One - Bury Your Doubts
Night One - Strangers In This Town
Day Two - The Sound of Silence
Night Two - Renounce My Past
Day Three - Lost Stars
Night Three - Mourning Has Broken
Day Four - A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall
Night Four - The Gambler, He Broke Even
Day Five - Still The Raven Knows
Night Five - Through Dark and Light
Day Six - The Brightest Fell

 

 

Edited March 17 by Devotary of Spontaneity

[Kasimir Lerasium Mistborn]

Rule Clarifications

Spoiler

• Do I need a Cosmetic Role? Must I use one from the list? Can Cosmetic Roles be combined or overlapped?

As far as I'm concerned, Cosmetic Roles are in this game for fun, and to promote/encourage engagement and RP. (As a GM, I tend to cater to RPers, being rather RP-inclined myself.) You may create your own Cosmetic Roles and go wild, overlap, or combine them as you please. Just tell me, so I have an idea and can angle write-ups accordingly  

• Can Seekers scan both role and alignment at the same time?

Yes - in fact, this is not an either/or ability. A Seeker using a scan will receive both role results and alignment results.

• Do Smokers need to send in an order to Smoke?

Smokers begin the game with their Copperclouds switched on. There are three possibilities for a Smoker:

1. You want to Smoke someone else. If so, you must send in an order to me. This will result in both the Smoker and their target being Smoked.

2. You want to switch your Coppercloud off. If so, you must also send in an order to me.

3. You want you, and only you to remain Smoked. If so, you do not need to send in an order to me.

• Will the Seeker only be able to find out role and alignment information if a metal is being burned?

I know that's the way it works in the books, but in this game, you do not need to be using a metal for the Seeker to be able to find out your role and alignment when they target you. The only exception is if you've been Smoked, in which case you show up as a Regular Villager.

• How do Seeker scans work?

Okay. Suppose Kas is a Seeker. He scans Wyrm, who is really a Spiked Lurcher, but has been Smoked that Night. Wyrm will show up as a Regular Villager to Kas's scan. Now, suppose Kas is a paranoid chullson and scans Wyrm again the following Night. Wyrm isn't Smoked this time, because who would be so kasyana, right? Well, this time, Wyrm shows up as a Spiked Lurcher on Kas's scan, regardless of whether he used his metal that Night.

• Can the Thug survive being voted on, or only attacks?

The Thug's ability is a passive extra life, so yes, they can survive an interrogation interview or an attack.

• Can Lurchers self-target?

Yes.

• Do I really have to bold every single question if I have a lot of them?

Bold at least the first part of the first question, and generally just be sensible about it. That rule is basically giving you a way to get my attention on an issue when you need something clarified, so it's not a 'I will keelhaul you if you don't' sort of rule but a 'please help me make my life and by extension, your lives easier' kind of rule. As long as I can see clearly where your questions are, it's good enough for me.

• Do Smokers get to send in an action every Turn?

No. Only at Night. This does mean that the Smokers will enter this game with an involuntary switched on Coppercloud D1 - in usual OG Tyrian, the game begins N0 so they could choose to switch it off then. But the Committee was concerned that it might be rough for a player to get NKed without even getting to play the game, and I agree with that assessment, so we are beginning on a Day. As a result, sorry to the Smokers, but your first chance to send in an order on Smoking will be N1.

• While the Tineye is alive, can people create group PMs or just one-on-one PMs?

As long as there is a single living Tineye, or a Mistborn has Tin for the cycle, any number or kind of PMs can be created. Only limit is that the GM and IM have to be included, and if I tell you the PMs are closed (e.g. because Mistborn drew a different metal), then you need to stop talking in them.

 

Player List

Spoiler

1. @Matrim's Dice as Philico, the Magician Extraordinaire! - Come one, come all!
2. @Random Bystander as the village's random bystander and musician - Who wants to live forever?
3. @Gears as Roko the Basilisk, the gambling menace - Building a house of cards
4. @Quintessential as Tesse Mourn, resident metallurgist - Mixologist but metal
5. @Fifth Scholar as Iste Confessor, village scholar - I confess I'm interested in this one
6. @Shard of Reading as Joe, gambling duck wrangler who drinks - I'd be driven to drink too if I had to wrangle ducks 
7. @Araris Valerian as Arenta, grumpy landlady - or the unholy conglomeration of AG Araris and Ren, tremble with fear ye tenants!
8. @Dannex as Dr. Aliker - A doctor, just probably not the one you're looking for
9. @Elandera as a confused and overworked metallurgist - Whose order is it anyway?
10. @Ashbringer as Derrick, general madman and secret kandra - Twice the pride, double the fall!
11. @TJ Shade as Fleur Tieste, hopeless romantic and god of cheesy one-liners - Are you a Lurcher? 'Cause I think I'm pulled towards you.
12. @Illwei - definitely not an Elantrian
13. @Devotary of Spontaneity as Sonnah Cojic, alchemist - But probably not full metal
14. @Experience Animation as Shard, the crazy 'kid' in town - Here's lookin' at you, kid.
15. @Mailliw73 as Marll, a gambling cobbler who heard of Tyrian Falls - Beware beetles!
16. @StrikerEZ as Variel, a fastidious storyteller - Who will tell the story of your life?
17. @The Unknown Order as Obliteration, a Shard inhabiting one of his followers - Guess you could use somebody
18. @The Windrunner Supreme as Merritt Cavallo - Pending
19. @Ventyl as Niru, a watcher of ashes - Watch out, Ash, he's coming for you!
20. @Flyingbooks as Lasalen, an alchemist with ducks to give - RELEASE THE QUACKEN!
21. @Burnt Spaghetti as Roseanna Ghetti, an insomniac artist - But what is there to art in this village but an infinity of ducks?
22. @STINK as Smirkai - Smirkai, now that's a name I haven't heard in a very long time...
23. @_Stick_ as Sunny, the intrepid baking worldhopping dolphin - So long and thanks for all the fish!
24. @Biplet as Sara, the local tavern-keeper - Toss a coin to your keeper, o' valley of plenty!
25. @Daisy as Hadra the storyteller - We are the stories we live! The tales we tell ourselves!
26. @The Young Pyromancer as Pie Roayong, foreigner kid out for blood - His name is Pie Roayong. You killed his father. Prepare to die.
27. @Young Bard as Thiriel, social climber - Chaos is a ladder.
28. @Tani as Daux, duck poacher - The socially-accepted term is 'wrangler'.

Spectator List

Spoiler

1. @Elbereth
2. @Claincy

Pinch-Hitter List

Spoiler

1. @xinoehp512
2. @Condensation
3. @Haelbarde
4. @Mist

 

Edited February 26 by Kasimir

[Matrim's Dice Enefel]

I'll join as Philico. Looks fun!  

Edit: I'll take the Cosmetic Role of Magician, as well.

Edited February 19 by Matrim's Dice

[StrikerEZ Midnight Essence]

@Kasimir I’m probably dumb and missed this, but when does this start?

[Condensation Savant]

Ooh, count me in as Connie!

[Kasimir Lerasium Mistborn]

7 minutes ago, StrikerEZ said:

@Kasimir I’m probably dumb and missed this, but when does this start?

You always forget something.... >> Edited in, but basically sign-ups close next Friday, 2300hrs SGT (GMT +8.) Then I aim to get things started by midnight my time  

Edited February 19 by Kasimir

[Random Bystander High Prelan]

I'll join as the village's random bystander. 

[Matrim's Dice Enefel]

8 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

You always forget something.... >> Edited in, but basically next Friday, 2300hrs SGT (GMT +8.) 

 I think that's Saturday morning for me, assuming I calculated right.

This won't be confusing at all xD

Edit:

Calculated wrong, it's Friday morning. Pretty sure.

Edited February 19 by Matrim's Dice

[Gears Wyrn the King]

Roko the Basilisk moved through the village known as Fallion's Tears with light footsteps and a deck of cards, practicing its shuffling and carefully memorising each and every card. It had a distinct advantage over the other gamblers in that it had a perfect memory and near-limitless storage space, but it was still subject to the "randomness" brought on by the dealer. There was also the stipulation of trying not to get thrown out by the casinos when its "luck" was too good and it took too much money from the rich donors. It had experienced great profit while in the town, but the tentative peace seemed to be at an end. 

A message had been left by the Spiked in blood and viscera. A message of death and murder and bloodshed. "WHEN THE KOLOSS COME" While Roko did not fear death, this village was its testing grounds, and it did not take kindly to the Spiked slaughtering the townsfolk. It had laid claim to this town. It had been here first. The Spiked had no right to take its domain. Roko the Basilisk would not allow it. 

---

I'm playing as Roko the Basilisk, the Gambler [but not Drunkard].

[StrikerEZ Midnight Essence]

21 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

 I think that's Saturday morning for me, assuming I calculated right.

This won't be confusing at all xD

I’m pretty sure you did your math wrong, assuming you’re in the US. It starts next Friday at 9 am CST. 

[Kasimir Lerasium Mistborn]

3 minutes ago, StrikerEZ said:

I’m pretty sure you did your math wrong, assuming you’re in the US. It starts next Friday at 9 am CST. 

 

25 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

Calculated wrong, it's Friday morning. Pretty sure.

I'm too tired to do the exact maths, but in general, my night/midnight translates to early morning for the Stateside folks, and you guys are the better part of a day behind, so Friday morning sounds about right.

[Matrim's Dice Enefel]

Yeah, I just saw that 11pm KasTime = 7am MatTime and went the other direction with it  

[Quintessential Hazekiller]

1 minute ago, StrikerEZ said:

I’m pretty sure you did your math wrong, assuming you’re in the US. It starts next Friday at 9 am CST. 

I feel bad for the people on the west coast  

I'm in! Playing as Tesse Mourn, the resident metallurgist (someone @ me if that's already taken and I'll choose something else lol)

[Fifth Scholar Truthless]

Epic RP signup to perhaps be edited in, but I have not played a game in a year and we are fixing that, and an LG with the simplest ruleset of all should be a good way to go about it.  Count me in as Iste Confessor, the village Scholar who's gotten perhaps a little too paranoid after his investigations into past incidents with Spiked. Not so paranoid that he won't do his part this time around, though...

[Shard of Reading Cryptic]

Joe leaned against the wall as the world turned upside down. He leaned over and retched all the drink that he'd had over the past night. He let the wall support him as he let the alcohol leave his system. As his clarity returned so did reality. Oh no. He thought. Oh, nononononono. My ducks are gone! He had showed his hand too early in a game of poker and he'd run out of money. So, he (In a moment of haste) Bet his dear ducks. And he had lost, and now his ducks were gone. He didn't remeber who he had been gambling so he had called the detectives. But he had left because he had "Something more pressing to attend to." As if anything was more important than his ducks! No one knew how to care for them like him and they would therefore be treated horribly with whoever had them. He needed to get his ducks back. Whatever happened he needed them.

I'm going to sign up as Joe. A duck wrangler and a drunk/gambler. I don't know if you're allowed to have to Cosmetic roles, but I DON'T CARE. Both of these were too awesome too pass up. I think that my activity is going to be down a little the first cycle, but I'll be talking more after that.

[Kasimir Lerasium Mistborn]

3 minutes ago, Shard of Reading said:

I'm going to sign up as Joe. A duck wrangler and a drunk/gambler. I don't know if you're allowed to have to Cosmetic roles, but I DON'T CARE. Both of these were too awesome too pass up. I think that my activity is going to be down a little the first cycle, but I'll be talking more after that.

I'm happy for there to be overlap, frankly. I tend to be very RP oriented as a GM, so my point of cosmetic roles is to give players a chance to make some RP commitments/go wild. I'll put you down as both.

4 minutes ago, Fifth Scholar said:

but I have not played a game in a year and we are fixing that,

WELCOME BACK! 

[Araris Valerian Full Shardbearer]

Aralis woke from a dream. Some foolish nonsense where Spiked had infiltrated Tyrian Falls to assist an invasion of Koloss. Bah. Everyone knew that Koloss were just a story the Lord Ruler told everyone to keep them in line, and why would anyone stab themselves with a shard of metal? People these days. He'd heard so many of their stories that they were starting to get to his dreams as well. No matter. Aralis went outside to sit in his chair and grouch at the neighbors. Something did seem... odd, about the town today. The buildings didn't look quite like he'd remembered them. Old age must finally be catching up to me. Pushing the thought aside, Aralis closed his eyes.

"What in tarnation are you doing on my porch?"

Aralis woke with a start, disoriented. An elderly lady stood over him, gesturing threateningly with a rather sturdy looking broom. He tried to mumble something in response, reaching for his staff, when the woman smacked him across the head and the world went dark.

Arenta rubbed her eyes. When she'd hit the madman, he'd faded away into nothing. Funny, the things you thought you saw when you were older. Of course, the townsfolk didn't have her excuse. Jabbering on about Koloss and Spiked. Their eyes were still young enough to see the world as it was, they just chose not to. Or, more likely, they wanted the threat of invasion as an excuse to get out of paying her their dues.

Arenta, the Grumpy Landlord, is prepared to defend Fallion's Tears from foolishness and anything else that might prevent the collection of rent.

[Shard of Reading Cryptic]

6 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

I'm happy for there to be overlap, frankly. I tend to be very RP oriented as a GM, so my point of cosmetic roles is to give players a chance to make some RP commitments/go wild. I'll put you down as both.

Okay. That's good to know.

[Kasimir Lerasium Mistborn]

6 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

Aralis woke from a dream. Some foolish nonsense where Spiked had infiltrated Tyrian Falls to assist an invasion of Koloss. Bah. Everyone knew that Koloss were just a story the Lord Ruler told everyone to keep them in line, and why would anyone stab themselves with a shard of metal? People these days. He'd heard so many of their stories that they were starting to get to his dreams as well. No matter. Aralis went outside to sit in his chair and grouch at the neighbors. Something did seem... odd, about the town today. The buildings didn't look quite like he'd remembered them. Old age must finally be catching up to me. Pushing the thought aside, Aralis closed his eyes.

"What in tarnation are you doing on my porch?"

Aralis woke with a start, disoriented. An elderly lady stood over him, gesturing threateningly with a rather sturdy looking broom. He tried to mumble something in response, reaching for his staff, when the woman smacked him across the head and the world went dark.

Arenta rubbed her eyes. When she'd hit the madman, he'd faded away into nothing. Funny, the things you thought you saw when you were older. Of course, the townsfolk didn't have her excuse. Jabbering on about Koloss and Spiked. Their eyes were still young enough to see the world as it was, they just chose not to. Or, more likely, they wanted the threat of invasion as an excuse to get out of paying her their dues.

Arenta, the Grumpy Landlord, is prepared to defend Fallion's Tears from foolishness and anything else that might prevent the collection of rent.

Both this RP and the fact you signed up as an unholy conglomeration of Ren and your usual AG self is killing me  

[Araris Valerian Full Shardbearer]

15 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

Both this RP and the fact you signed up as an unholy conglomeration of Ren and your usual AG self is killing me  

Well, I figured I'd need a different character since we aren't in Tyrian Falls, but I really like being Aralis. He captures my inner elderly grouchy guy pretty well. So this was what came out. I had something like this in mind since you mentioned you were running this game, but didn't think about the Rent thing until you posted the list of cosmetic roles. The funny thing is, Aralis and Rent really didn't get along. But now I get to be both!

[Dannex Twinborn]

I'll join! And I think I finally wanna hop on the "create a continuous SE RP Character" train. So I'm signing up as Dr. Aliker. If I end up liking him, expect to see more of him in future games. 

[Elandera Worldbringer]

Iron. No. Steel? Wait...

I don't remember. Working with metals for so long...

I've gone a little odd.

Crazy, I think is the word they use. Sometimes mad. 

Metals, though. They still need them. And I'm still the best. I think.

If only I can remember what kind of metal they just ordered...

****

Hello, signing up to my own detriment. Try not to expect much from me, though.

[Ashbringer Kandra]

"So things are finally starting," Faleast said, rotating his jaw.

"Aye," replied AraRaash. "It's been a fun vacation, but looks like it's back to work for the two of us."

"It wasn't a vacation, Raash. You of all people should know the time a good infiltration requires."

"We're back here again, and we got to slack off and do nothing while waiting for Lam to give us a sign or whatever it was he told us."

Faleast didn't comment on that. "A Hemalurgic Spike discovery is something that his town has rarely seen. So yes, this is it. One way or another, we'll do what we need to do."

The two of them stood up. They were trying something... newer. Neither had felt an overwhelming sense of control, which seemed to mean it didn't matter which of them decided to act in Fallion's Tears. So they had taken some liberties. And now they were the proud owner of a small home on the outskirts of town, along with a porch, reclining chair to observe the village, and the body of the previous resident. It left a twinge in Faleast's stomach, but knowing what they had known about that individual, he wouldn't have lasted long. He left his iron shavings around too much.

He was rather mad, after all. Which gave Faleast and AraRaash a unique opportunity.

"So," they said, twin sets of vocal cords resonating as they began walking toward the gathering crowd. "We should introduce ourselves, at the very least."

 

Signing up as Faleast-AraRaash. Cosmetic role is... uh... you get the idea  Madman / split-personality. And also a kandra. And also maybe more. We'll see.

[|TJ| King's Tester]

I see all your cosmetic roles and I raise you a Flirt.

Meet Fleur Tieste, a hopeless romantic with never-ending supply of cheesy one liners :P.

[Illwei Ghostblood]

Illwei doesn't have a character

uh

she may eventually, but uh

probably

not?

but uh I'm signing up