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Renegade

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  1. Well, I finally have some more time to play, so here's some more awful poetry. Reihmer looked over his ketek-format notes of the darkeyes and lighteyes in his area of the warcamp. Next to Jain, he wrote: Storming “swordsman” spy for Vamah; for spying, swords storm! Reihmer nodded and looked over the accounts of each of the darkeyes. Newan stood out to him the most. The man was reportedly an Envisager. In that case, after all of these weeks, how could he possibly still be alive? Something was fishy in this camp, and it was most certainly not a fish. My vote to Newan, to voting mine. NOOOOOO’s” too many, I notice. Noticing me, many too “NOOOOOO’s”. Convenient complaining, of past betrayals means little; meaning betrayal, past of complaining conveniently. Not seeing points against Odysa, against points, see? Not Pointed out much, either. Much out pointing.
  2. I'm more surprised by the fact that Jain was actually evil for once. But this lack of deaths is actually a bit unnerving, as it may very well mean that one (or possibly more) team of Spies has found a Spy from Prince Aladar's army. And if one of those armies has a Messenger, they can start coordinating among each other. On the other hand, we did find a Spy, and we now have Luckat proven innocent, so we can start making some more concrete connections between players. EDIT: I looked at it, and there are a number of reasons the Spies' kills could have not gone through. Either they targeted an Aladar Spy, a Scout on Scouting duty, a player who was being blocked by the Officer (I think that's possible?), or a lighteyes who skipped the battle. Also, the lighteyed vote doesn't appear to have targeted anyone.
  3. Well, since it was asked for, I came up with a few lines of poetry: Never gonna give you up, you give? Gonna never Let you down, you let? Never gonna tell a lie, lie a tell, gonna never Hurt you. You hurt? Reihmer nodded at the words to his new poem, Never Gonna Never Gonna Never. He had tried turning it into a song earlier, but it had ended up so terribly that he wrote this in the footnotes: Are these lyrics awful? Yes, awful lyrics, these are. Never gonna do that again, that do? Gonna never. Ah, well. Being a world-renowned poet was no easy task, after all.
  4. Hmm... Well, I think that this upcoming battle should give us a better indication of who is good and who isn't. One loyal player will get a Shardblade, after all. Anyway, suspicions and votes... I have a few arguments against Wilson right now, none of which are actually due to her past Eliminator-ness. However, most of the arguments I tried to make aren't very conclusive when put on paper. And actually, most of my valid suspicions were summed up in Eolhandras' post. But the evidence so far is nothing too incriminating; only time will be able to tell the truth. I really don't know what to make of Kas. It could be that he is the Wit, or he's a Spy, or neither. (Wow, that was a helpful statement. ) I will say that all of the suspicion being placed on Odysa is a bit odd. Yes, there may be a few oddities in her posts, but I really don't think that this so-called "erraticness" (which I really don't think it is) is an indicator of suspicion. In previous games, this has simply been an Eliminator scapegoat, and in all honesty, Odysa is helping to move along discussion a lot more than most of the other players at this time. With the nature of the opposing Spy groups in this game, it'd make sense for the Eliminators to hide in the shadows. (That said, that doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye on Odysa as well, as I imagine somebody's going to accuse me of defending Odysa in this post or something.) And with that in mind, I'm voting for Karlin. Her utter silence seems awfully like what Twei did in MR 3. Although, now that I think of it, there are a lot of quiet people in this game. If you're reading this and haven't posted at least twice this cycle: SAY SOMETHING!!! Sadly, this post wasn't nearly as bloodthirsty as I was planning, nor did it have any poetry, as it would've been way too difficult. Oh well, good enough.
  5. Yeah, it's mostly because it would just be a tie anyway, I think. Although, I am getting a bit tired of these poke votes (yes, I made two yesterday, but I'm beginning to change my mind about them), as they are generally not all that useful, especially in a sort of game where inactives will be killed anyway. Let me say this: I’ve noticed that in many of our recent games, we’ve become a bit lackadaisical in our votes. We need more people to vote! Sure, posting plans and observations is good and all, but voting is what the whole game is centered around. The game’s called Sanderson Elimination for a reason! We need to be more bloodthirsty! Even if you only have a scintilla of suspicion towards someone, cast a vote towards them; it’s the whole point of the game! And don't retract your votes too easily, because pressuring another player enough can get them to reveal things they normally would not with a poke vote. And yes, I will be voting soon (hopefully), once I get my notes and evidence together.
  6. Oh yeah, forgot to do that earlier. Kaddar. Sorry about that, I was planning on removing my vote last night, but I ended up having to stay up really late to write an essay. On that note, I'm not sure how much time I'm going to have available the next few days, so keep that in mind.
  7. Reihmer rushed into the training grounds, only to discover it was raining. “Storming storms,” Reihmer pouted. He saw Kaddar pass by, with a pair of guards. Suspicious man. Wasn’t he the one who had made that battle plan? Reihmer feigned a smile, thrusting his spear at an imaginary target, trying to look like he was training. Well, this stinks. Perhaps a poem could help? Still making sporadic spear thrusts, Reihmer spoke: "Around kitchens, the hungry darkeyes sit, darkeyes hungering the kitchens around. Stomachs empty, their eyes tear up; tearing eyes, their empty stomachs. Food for all, and all for food, Chouta is chouta. Breathing heavily, my mouth waters; my watering mouth, my heavy breathing. ‘Tis a sign that I must eat, must I that sign a ‘tis. Seeking food, my stomach groans; stomach my food, seeking? I leave for snacks, hating snacks for leaving me. What does it mean? You mean it does what? Food for all, and all for food, Chouta is chouta. Herdazian cuisine, so sublime, I partake. I, sublime, so cuisine Herdazians. Wash it with Horneater drinks, for drinking Horneaters with it wash. Food comes, food goes, it all flows; all it goes, food comes. Food! Delicious and brittle, brittle and delicious. Chorus comes, come chorus! Food for all, and all for food, Chouta is chouta. Friends come with food, with come friends. Ripe or sour, my feeling’s never dour. Never feeling my sour or ripe. Sweet and tangy, I never feel mangy. Feel! Never I tangy and sweet. Soulcast meat, so sweet, so meaty; Soulcast Meat is rather neat; rather is meaty. Food for all, and all for food, Chouta is chouta." By the time Reihmer ended the poem, many of the other darkeyes in the training grounds had stopped and turned towards him with a hungry expression. Several of them even made a run for the mess hall. “A good poem, isn’t it?” Reihmer asked, smiling. Only then did he notice that a brightlord officer was striding towards him, a furious expression on his face. Ah, crem. “What have you done, soldier?” the officer said, grabbing Reihmer by the shoulders and shaking him. “Um… I’ve been practicing my… erm, thespianism.” “Thespianism?” the brightlord asked, cocking his head. “Well, maybe you ought to stop acting and start doing! You understand?” “Yessir.” “I’m putting you on probation, soldier. Go clean out the chamber pots in the barracks. And don’t take all day! I have more important things to take care of than insubordinate darkeyes.” “Yessir,” Reihmer grumbled. He knew that making a poem to spite the brightlord would probably be a bad idea, at this point. So, he did as he was told, sulking back into the barracks. At least it was out of the rain. And maybe he could start focusing on those Spies. He hadn’t thought of it before, but he was going to end up in battle sooner or later, and he didn’t want to end up in a battle like the one that had just occurred hours ago.
  8. Figured I’ll do my poetry like Shiv in LG 2, and put a translation (sort of) below each stanza. Reihmer yawned at the news that one of the Brightlords had just brought. Spies? Well that figures. Guess I ought to look like I’m doing something about this issue, so grouchy Dalinar doesn’t want to run me through with a Shardblade again. Of course, there was only one way Reihmer could make his arguments clear to the others. In his barracks, he grabbed a pen and paper, and began to write. People of being, beings of people. What jobs they have? Have they jobs, what? One the Wit, a fool in hiding, in fools, a Wit the one. Into light, I suggest he come in, even in coming, he suggests me light, into. Jobs aplenty, plentiful jobs. Earnestly shall I go? ...I shall, earnestly. Careful protection, two we have; having us two, protect carefully. Guardsmen and surgeons are what there is. Are there? What are surgeons and guardsmen? I ask this rhetorically, for I’m no chull-head. No, I’m for rhetoric; this ask I: Be there multiples of what was mentioned? Is what of multiples there are? I say two for Guards, one for surgeons. For one Guard, for two say I? Nay, I know not. Not knowing, I nay. Two other forms there be. Are there forms, other two? Swift scouts and officers, of protection being. We being protective of officers and scouts swiftly? Scouts, I suspect solely one; solely suspecting me. Scouts, Interesting, because of that ability; that, of because interest. Officers the blockers are, tough and rugged. Rugged and tough are blockers, the officers. Abilities abound, its use is hindered; hindering is using its abounding abilities. Messengers, squadleaders, and watchmen left; watchmen and squadleaders, messengers. Messengers, one or two, I say; says I: “Two or one messengers!” Use your ability well, couriers, good abilities you use. Squadleader, the silencer of darkeyes, has great power; great has darkeyes of silencing the squadleader. Choices, decisions. Should we leave a kill to one’s decision? One’s to kill; a leaving we should decide. Choices. Watchmen: be vigilant. Be watchmen. Nodding at his poetic vibes, Reihmer noticed one of hiss fellow darkeyes walking in the barracks. It was Mek, the man who supposedly defected from another army. "Hey, you!" he shouted at Mek. "Shouldn't you be out training?" Then Reihmer paused, suddenly realizing that he wasn't out training either. He quickly slid his poems away and grabbed his spear from the wall, rushing out of the barracks before anyone else noticed. Edit: So, anyone else planning to actually post, or am I missing out on some secret spy activities here?
  9. Reihmer looked around Dalinar’s warcamp, and found a group of people standing idly around a tent. Oh good, he thought giddily, a captive audience! Reihmer walked up to the group from behind and cleared his throat. “Ahem. I call this piece: Horses are Mathematicians, and Vice Versa. It’s a modern take on a well-known classic. Here I go…” The group of men and women, all bald and robed, looked confused. “Um, excuse me sir,” one woman said, “but we’re trying to soulcast a new section of wall here. Could you… go practice your poetry elsewhere?” “Ha! That’s a good joke!” Reihmer laughed. “But you know, you’re really interrupting my poetic vibes here. Don’t you ardents like keteks, with all the symmetry and stuff? Like, ‘symmetry is life, life is symmetry.’ You people are too boring and stuffy.” Some of the ardents stiffened, clearly not expecting this sort of response from the poet. Where was this man’s sense of propriety? Insulting a group of ardents like that? The Almighty would never agree. “Just… leave,” one man said, almost feeling ashamed to be in the blasphemer’s presence. “You can try to make me,” Reihmer smiled, “but it’s not going to happen. Now, my poem: Horses are mathematicians, and mathematicians are horses. Long faces have both, both have faces long. Multiplying like mad, their madness like multiplication. Finding them unhappy, my unhappiness them finds. Then subtracting wealth, their wealth subtracting then. Horses for feed, and feed for horses. Adding weight, the weight adds. Three becomes seven, and seven becomes… hey, ho, nice sword. Really big, too.” A tall man, wielding a shardblade and shardplate, pointed directly at Reihmer with his sword. “Oh, you want an encore, then?” Reihmer asked. “Well, I wasn’t really done yet, but I guess I could…” The Shardbearer sliced Reihmer’s poem in half, and gestured for Reihmer to leave. Reihmer scowled, squinting his eyes at the Shardbearer. “Fine. You don’t like poetry? Well, I have another poem for you. It’s called, Get Out of My Face, Storming Cremling Shardbearer; Cremling, Storming Face My of Out Get! It goes like this: Crem-faced Shardbearer, I spite thee, spite me, Shardbearer, crem-faced. Your soul tastes like rocks; rocks like tasting souls; yours. Painful agonies cause strenuous tension in your nose, your --" The Shardbearer lifted his face plate, revealing a middle-aged man. Was that the Blackthorn? Insulting him might have been a mistake, then. “Do you want to live?” the man asked. “Is that a rhetorical question?” The Shardbearer pointed his Shardblade at Reihmer’s heart, the tip nearly touching his shirt. “Get out. Now.” “Alright, fine, sheesh,” Reihmer said, turning around and grumbling all of the way back to his barracks. Apparently old man Dalinar was a grouch. He'd have to be more careful where he recited his poetry.
  10. Keteks his pride, Reihmer prides his keteks. Raving mad, his mad ravings, Awaken all who hear, who all awaken, Angrily shaking doorframes, doorframes shaking angrily. Then comes that highstorm, that comes then. Food on wheels, for all to see, to all for wheels on food. Keteks stink, storming stinking keteks. Reihmer looked over his latest piece of poetry with pleasure, creationspren moving about on the table in front of him. Assuredly, a masterpiece, he thought to himself with pride, and stuffed the poem into his bag, with all of the other pieces of poetry he had created. Few people knew how many types of poetry existed on the great continent of Roshar. Reihmer was one of those people. Traveling from country to country, kingdom to kingdom, he learned of every place’s poems, and tried to emulate them. Keteks were one of the most difficult forms of poetry, Reihmer had heard, but he had no trouble making the one that he just did. Clearly, he was a true master of poetry. Any time now, he’d be able to attract a spren and become a Lightweaver. And then he’d become the life of all the parties! ------------ As an added challenge, I’m going to try to write the majority of my arguments this game in ketek form.
  11. I'm sure Raid would beg to differ, but he appears to be suffering from a very... terminal... disability at this point. I find it pleasantly ironic, though, how Raid was a kleptomaniac whose only ability was to give away weapons to others. (Although, I wasn’t planning on using the ability anyway. Paranoia and all. Plus, the Stun Baton was a nice substitute… you know, for the one turn I had possession of it…) Despite my early death, it was a very enjoyable game. I thought I had broken the game with my plan at the beginning, but then, of course, the rooms started to break instead… let’s just say that I was totally unprepared for that. But at least it wasn’t a complete failure, even though, you know, the Barons got around it and won and all... But yeah, looking forward to the next one of these games! I accidentally ended up making a prelude to my next character, after I was trying to think of ways for Raid to somehow escape his death. None came to mind, so here's Raid's crazy grandpappy instead! Render looked at the blank television screen. It was a remnant, an old device that he had found pre-Calamity. The ancient, cubical device may have seemed almost anachronistic, but it suited him, with his Epic power and all. Plus, as much as Render had wanted, Raid had never found him a decent flatscreen television, or one of those newfangled virtual reality screens. This old behemoth would have to do. Render blinked, and the television immediately flickered on, displaying an image of the Enforcement Headquarters. Raid had last been there, right? Render narrowed his eyes, and the television’s screen flickered for a second before displaying an image of the main entrance, looking into the facility. A pair of Doomsdays’ clones hauled something out of one of the rooms. A body. It almost looked like… No. Render’s eyes widened in shock. The screen zoomed in, confirming what Render had feared: Raid was dead. By a hillbilly in a snowstorm, it can’t be. It can’t be! Render pondered. He… he must’ve found a way out. A decoy, perhaps? He’s a clever boy, he ought to be able… Render quickly changed the television’s viewpoint location with his mind, searching every room in the Enforcement Headquarters. He found nothing. Could he have escaped the carnage? Render shook his head, trembling. No. He’s dead. Render immediately stood up from his chair, the television blinking off. “That slontze! He died! How could he die like that?” Render’s entire body shook in rage, and he grabbed a steel bar from the wall, clenching it in a tight fist. Almost instantly, the bar began to darken and rust away, the infection radiating from his fingertips. How could he be blaming Raid for his own death? It was the Barrow Barons’ fault! They were the source of this problem! Render let go of the shrunken, corroded bar and sat down in his chair again, the television blinking to life. His grandson had apparently died, and Render would have a bit of research to do. Only then would he plot his revenge…
  12. A Copper Ferring walks into a bar. After noticing the large bump on his head, he then proceeds to walk into the bar again.
  13. Rengar, the Worldhopping-Backstabbing-Seventeenth-Shard-Freed-Bridgeman-Skybreaker-of-Kholinar glanced down at the congregation of his fellow Seventeenth Sharders. Sure, he was one of them, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to attend all of their meetings. He’d unconsciously betrayed his friends to join this group, so he automatically felt a sort of latent mistrust towards them. Not that he could just leave the organization. No, the storming Nightwatcher’s curse prevented that from occurring. Then again, that curse did save his life, so Rengar wasn’t sure what to make of it. As an alternative to joining the meeting, Rengar simply worldhopped away. He was still a Seventeenth Sharder; he just didn’t abide by their rules. He was the real Renegade. Except that Hoid was the most renowned renegade. Not to mention that other renegade who was in the Seventeenth Shard… apparently. Oh well, Rengar didn’t care for names a whole lot anyway. He was the Renegade in his own mind, and that's what mattered. I will also be watching this one from the Speculation Doc. Plus, I don’t want Rengar to die! Yet...
  14. Just to let all of you know, I'm planning to run a few more games in the future, and have a document with a link to the rules of some of them (including the game I'm about to describe below). It can also be accessed via the link at the bottom of my signature-thing. Anyway, the game I'm planning to run next is a MR game. I've tried changing things up from the standard Elimination Game rules, so the game will likely need some major reworking. Anyway, see what you think: Bridge 11 Life used to be so simple. But then, you were sentenced to bridge duty. Since then, you and your bridge crew have toiled and labored, lifting bridges for the whims of lighteyes such as Highprince Sadeas. Some of your comrades have snapped under the pressure; others have simply succumbed to their fate. Many of you wish to seek revenge on the cruel lighteyes who treat you worse than parshmen. The War of Reckoning is reaching a crucial stage, and the lighteyes wish to make an example of your bridge crew. The lighteyes have heard rumors that your crew is planning to rebel, and Sadeas wants them to put an end to it. The lighteyes have infiltrated your bridge crew, and plan to tear it apart at the seams in any way they can. It is only through collaboration that you will be able to survive the onslaught. Overview Highstorms Roles Items Order of Actions Edit: Changed a lot of stuff
  15. Everyone was dead silent again. But, as Raid reflected back to yesterday, the moment he had thought that it was quiet was the moment everyone had begun arguing and going crazy. So maybe that would happen again! The lively discussion would sure beat the eerie silence. As his grandpappy always said: “Silence ain't a virtue, son. Take it from me. I even talk in my sleep!” Raid had never seen the wisdom in those words, but maybe his grandpappy was right. On that account, of course. Where is everyone? We have about 6 hours left, and there are only 6 votes right now: Jain (1): Friend Trial (1): Raid pir2h (2): Jain, Kenna Aidan Forsyth (1): Milton Stanley (1): Spark As Gamma has stated, we need to focus on voting and discussion, as the Plan is preventing the majority of kills from taking place. At least toss out a vote or something! Without discussion, the amount of information we have here will be kept at a minimum. Killersquirrel (obviously), Tulir, and Jasnah have yet to post this cycle. I've already put my vote on Tulir for now, but Jasnah’s absence is worrying, as she was rather active last cycle, and has been online multiple times this cycle. Edit: Grammar
  16. Raid cleared his throat. “Well, let’s get back to business. We ought to seize the day here, and get as much talking done in here today as possible. “So, Kelsey survived. Sure, someone could’ve been blocked and not killed her, or Kelsey could’ve been protected, but, the way I see it, there are too many ifs in this scenario to glean any significant evidence. The Barons or Serial Killer might not have seen much use in killing an inactive, and decided to go item-hunting instead. Unless we get any further evidence to supplement this, I don’t think we should focus on this event (or lack thereof) during the night. “There was also the destruction of the Training Room and the Shooting Range. I would assume this was not the result of a weapon activated by one of us, as it would likely take 2 cycles to use such a weapon. The first to find it, and the second to activate/use it. So, perhaps it was just a faulty air conditioning system or something.” “A faulty air conditioning unit?” someone countered. “I’m not buying it.” Raid shrugged. “Well, I don’t really know. But it doesn’t seem like it was the fault of any of us, is my point. “But right now, let us focus on trying to kill each other with our mob-like tendencies. Trial, you’ve been pretty quiet so far, and didn’t cast a vote on Day 1, apart from the vote on Steel that you retracted. What do you think of all of this?”
  17. “I didn’t do anything!” Raid shouted, looking at the now-sealed entrance to the Training Room. A good thing he had left the room when he did, or he would’ve been sealed under several tons of solid metal. Apparently. And the Shooting Range wasn’t in great shape as well. Hopefully, this trend of exploding rooms wouldn’t continue the next few days… “Well,” Raid said to the others crowded around the shut door, “I guess this calls for a revision to the Plan. I call an emergency meeting, right here, right now! “So, we’re down to four rooms, and we’ve still got fourteen people left. We can split up into two groups of 4 and two groups of 3. If someone dies, it shouldn’t be that much more of a hassle to trace it to its source. Or… something like that.” Well, that was unexpected. But taking the loss of these 2 rooms into account, here’s a general idea of the new Plan: Officers' Lounge - Milton, Jain, Trial Armory - Kenna, Aya, Doc Oleny, Kelsey Skirl Barracks - Aidan Forsyth, Damon Shan, Friend, Stanley Mess Hall - Ash, Raid, Spark O’toole I tried to keep most of the groups as close to yesterday’s as possible. We might have to change one or two people as the cycle goes along, but I don’t think we should deviate from it too much.
  18. Raid yawned. He felt that he had already pilfered enough stuff from the room that they were in. He couldn’t wait until he moved into the Training Room during the Night. Maybe he could steal some dumbbells or sweatbands. Sure, maybe those weren’t the most useful things in this building, but Raid didn’t care. Stuff was stuff, and things were things. Everything else was superfluous. Raid began to realize that everyone else had become nearly as quiet as he, lately. Must’ve been the fact that it was late in the afternoon. As his grandpappy always said: “There are three times I hate every day: when I wake up, when I go to bed, and everything in between." Obviously, the others were suffering from the “in between” part here. “Hey, you!” Raid shouted. He looked at Loipin. “Yes, you, with that crazy... hair… and those mischievous… uh, eyes. You’ve been awfully quiet lately. What’s that all about?”
  19. Raid looked towards Friend, who had grown much more frightened the past few minutes. That seemed understandable. After all, they were only trapped in a sealed building with several people who wanted to kill them; those sort of things didn't happen all too often. Raid had been trapped in all kinds of things in his days. Jails were a common one. A giant mousetrap, once or twice. He'd been trapped in a safe several times, ironically enough. And once, he had been engulfed by an enormous Epic and stuck inside of his mouth for several days. That had not been fun. Oddly enough, he had never once been trapped inside of a building. Raid was sure that they'd find a way out. As his grandpappy used to say, "Every wall has its crack, and every torturer has his rack." An eccentric one, his grandpappy. And not the least bit sane. But he did have his witty moments, that was for sure. Too bad they didn't come around all that often. Raid coughed, dispelling those thoughts. "So, we all seem to be in agreement with this plan. So, Milton, Jain, and Trial, you guys stay in the Armory; Kenna, Aya, and Loipen can stay in the barracks..." Raid went on until he reached the last three people. "...and Ash, Spark, and I can stay in the Training Room." "The Training Room?" Spark protested. "Yeah," Raid said. "So what?" "Well, it's a bit boring." Raid blinked. "Well, look, we could go in the Shooting Range, but I'd rather not. We don't need fancy, sharp weapons to win this fight; we need sharp minds. Or, at least, that's what my grandpappy said, right before he jumped into a snake nest bare-chested." Raid shivered at that memory. "At any rate, if we do need weapons for some reason, I'm sure there will be enough in the other rooms." So, again, here are tonight's room assignments as they stand: Armory: Milton, Jain, Trial Barracks: Kenna, Aya, Loipen Kien Mess Hall: Doc Oleny, Kelsey Skirl, Aidan Forsyth Officers Lounge: Damon Shan, Friend, Stanley Training Room: Ash, Raid, Spark Sorry Spark, but I did say that I was against Civilians (well, anyone, actually) using kill actions, and the Shooting Range seems like a much easier place to find a lethal weapon than the Training Room.
  20. I asked about this in my role PM: the Baron and Serial Killer Night kills have the same restrictions applied to them as other kills (they can only work on others in the same room, or those in the hallway). The one thing I didn't take into account for my plan was the fact that the Serial Killer can use their kill action during the Day, likely without restriction. But the plan should at least work to help trace the Barrow Barons’ kills, assuming everyone follows it. In that case, we'll have to keep both eyes out for signs of the Serial Killer. “One thing I’d like to point out,” Raid said, kicking the chalkboard out of his way, “is that while there may be a number of seeking roles, only the Serial Killer can actually discover roles. And I have a feeling that the Serial Killer is not going to help us out, in that regard. The Scout, Invisibility Epic, and Mitosis can only detect abilities. If we’re trying to clear someone, and they are aware of this, they can easily choose to search the room they’re in, rather than using a kill action, to appear innocent. Of course, if we go with the plan and find someone using a kill action, it should be safe to say that they are evil, in some way. “I shall conclude by asking Doc why he wishes to switch places with someone to go to the Armory. Is there any particular reason that the Armory is so interesting?” Raid knew, of course, that there were probably lots of cool energy weapons inside there, but that was besides the point. He wanted to help get these people out of here, almost as much as he wanted to raid the building. It was like a heist; only, the challenge would be getting out of the building, rather than sneaking in. EDIT: The Illusionist role (especially if it is in the hands of the Barrow Barons, which seems likely, as a Civilian would have little use for it) is also something we'll have to watch out for. I'd suggest that the seeking roles not tell anyone who they're going to seek beforehand, in case the Illusionist decides to mess with us.
  21. “Ah, I got an idea!” Raid smiled, his eyes flashing with delight. “And it’s a good idea this time! I think…” Raid took the chalk out of his pocket and drew 6 crooked rectangles on the board. “There are 6 rooms that we can hide in, correct?” he asked the crowd. Some nodded. Most of them just looked bored. “And there are 15 of us. If we split ourselves evenly between 5 rooms, with 3 people per room, we can start finding out information pretty quickly.” Raid stopped drawing and shoved the chalk back into his pocket. “However, we will need to make up a schematic as to where everybody is supposed to be. And, we will have to ensure that no Civilians take any kill actions. But here’s the thing: if we find out that there was a death during the night, we can narrow down the suspects to two people: the other two in that room.” So, to reiterate, here’s the plan: We split up which rooms we are going to stay in during the Night, something like this: Armory: Milton, Jain, Trial Barracks: Kenna, Aya, Loipen Mess Hall: Doc, Kelsey, Aidan Officers Lounge: Damon, Friend, Stanley Training Room: Ash, Raid, Spark Shooting Range: (N/A) All non-Serial Killer/Barrow Baron players must not make any kill actions for this to work properly. Basically, after the Night is over, any deaths that occur can be attributed to the two other people that stayed in the same room as that player, in the chart above. We can therefore narrow down the suspects considerably. If anyone didn't stay where they were supposed to, that should also be viewed as suspicious. (Unfortunately, roommate information cannot be revealed during the Night, as per the rules, but it can be revealed the Day afterwards, which can help us on that front.) Here's an example: Bob, Fred, and Sam were told to go to the Armory by the chart. During the Night, Bob dies. This means that either Fred or Sam killed him and is therefore a Baron/Serial Killer. It could of course be someone who deviated from the plan and went to the Armory when they weren't supposed to, but, in that case, we'd have witnesses from both the Armory and the room that the deviator came from that would tell us this. So, any thoughts on this plan?
  22. “Friend, Newcagoans, Epics, lend me your ears,” Raid said to the group of people in frond of him, while spinning an old coin on his finger. “We come here to seek shelter from the fighting outside, but I fear that we have only fallen into a trap. Those wayward Barrow Barons have taken refuge in here as well.” “Yeah, we realized,” someone barked. “What’re we gonna do about it, though?” Raid paused. “I don’t know. I didn’t really, erm, think about that yet.” “Then what help are you to us?” someone shouted indignantly. “Well, I mean, the first thing we should try to do is break things down,” Raid said. “What do we know? We know that all of the people in this building are either regular old civilians, rich civilians, arms dealers, enforcer chiefs, snipers, matter disruptors, doctors, flame bodies, smoothtalkers, illusionists, scouts, invisibilities, precognitions, neutralizers, or Mitosis...es. And there’s a serial killer.” “Well, great job,” someone said, rolling their eyes. “That’s so helpful. Where’d you even get that information from anyway?” Raid blinked, catching the coin that he was spinning on his finger. “Uh, it’s not important. I know things. Yeah. Anyhow, there’s plainly a plethora of potentially pertinent people in this place, so we should try to make life simpler for us.” “Trust me, man, your speech here is not making life simpler for me.” “Shush, I’m pontificating,” Raid pouted, crouching down to discreetly take something off the floor. “We can divide all of these role abilities into several different categories: Kills, Protective, Blocking, Seeking, Vote Manipulating, and Disguise. Some fit into more than one category. Now, let me write something.” Raid walked out of the room, and quickly returned with a large blackboard, chalk in hand. On the board, he wrote: Kill Abilities: Barrow Barons’ Night Kill, Serial Killer, Weapons (Arms Dealer), Sniper, Matter Disruptor, Mitosis (every other cycle) Protective Abilities: Enforcer Chief, Doctor, Precognition, Flame Body, Mitosis (every other cycle) Roleblocking Abilities: Enforcer Chief, Neutralizer, Mitosis (every other cycle) Seeking Abilities: Serial Killer (x2, role), Scout (sense abilities), Invisibility (sense abilities), Mitosis (sense abilities, every other cycle) Vote Manipulation: Rich Civilian (just double vote), Smoothtalker, Mitosis (every other cycle) Disguise: Illusionist “And, there we have it,” Raid said, putting the chalk back on the tray. He cocked his head at the chalk, and decided to stuff it into his pocket, which was already bulging with stuff. The other people in the room looked at the chalkboard. “Well, that’s certainly interesting,” somebody said. “But how does it help?” Raid looked at the chalkboard and what he had written. “I… am not entirely sure. It does tell us that there’s a lot of ways to die. That’s… actually quite terrifying. But on the bright side, there are also plenty of other people that can counter this. That death issue is still worrying me. I’ve lived a good 26 years of my life without dying even once, and I don’t want to wreck that streak. “But as my old grandpappy used to say, we’ve got bigger fish to pilfer. There are some really evil people in this building right now, and we’re going to have to terminate them. You, sir!” Raid pointed at Friend, who had been smiling during his lecture. “You seem awfully smug for this situation; why is that?” EDIT: Changed vote color
  23. Well, I guess I'll join. But don't expect a whole bunch of in-depth posts out of me most of the time, since I have stuff to do outside of the 17th Shard (sad, but true). Raid looked ahead at the giant, looming building. So that was the Enforcement HQ? A bit lackluster, but there’d be plenty of cool stuff he could steal in there. Grinning wickedly, Raid ran towards the front door, which had been left partially open. Other people were in here already? Raid thought that he would've been the first, since he had run straight towards the Enforcement HQ after hearing of Steelheart's death. There was no better way of celebrating the victory of an omnipotent tyrant than raiding the now-vacant Enforcement HQ. Raid stepped inside and looked at the walls of the hallways as he walked down them, analyzing them as if they were a piece of artwork. An expensive piece of artwork that could be swiped. Not so he could sell it; no, Raid just stole things for the sake of stealing them. It gave him a sense of pleasure to pull off a good heist. Unfortunately, with the blatant lack of security in this place, stealing things would be a little too easy. Ah well; thievery was thievery, no matter how easy. Raid crept down a flight of stairs. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but he found from past experience that there were lots of interesting things to steal in the basement. Maybe he’d find a few energy weapons. Those were pretty cool. Or maybe he’d find some weapon that nobody had ever seen before. Giggling with glee, Raid descended to the basement, wondering what he would find. Suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs closed, plunging the basement into darkness. Raid whirled around, hearing something metallic roll down the steps. Raid had been around enough weapons to realize that it was a bomb; likely an energy bomb, at that. Raid whipped a pair of night vision goggles out of his belt and ran right, down a dark corridor. The bomb exploded. Arcs of blue lightning struck anything near it, creating a sharp popping sound that resounded throughout the corridor. Raid made the mistake of looking at the explosion, and was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the lightning bolts. Raid stumbled back, some of his arm singed by the lightning’s proximity. Huh, Raid thought, I guess this place isn't so safe after all. Comforted by that thought, Raid walked down the dark corridors of the Enforcement HQ’s basement. I had a pyromaniac as a character last time; naturally, I’m playing as a kleptomaniac for this game.
  24. Well, here's the link to the (somewhat official) dead/spec doc. Unfortunately, it became about as dead as the thread after Cycle 3 or so. The whole "Spec Doc Rebellion" vibe petered off by that point. We still got a good 39,000 words in, so it wasn't a complete waste.
  25. Woah, that must be the Divine Breath equivalent of an upvote.
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