Quirky Mafia

1. I can say things multiple times.

2. Yes.

Great, I would further try to narrow it down to words/syllables/letters, but it doesn't really matter at this point, and I don't want to torture you.

Oh, my gosh, Light, that's right... Phantom struck me as odd, we all got rickroll'd...

Now we just have to think of something weird that would be so oddly detatched, as Phantom is.

And because no edit, it's obvious that Flora's quirk is to stutter. Eheh.

So we can't sit back and gangnam style at all yet; this is a quirky mafia, and probably has some funky roles mixed in here.

Zero Moment said:

Also, Superbird, can we respond to questions (quirk-related or otherwise) with a short answer, without using our quirk? Might be a bit hard otherwise.

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You must follow the rules of your quirk. For some players, this is not hard at all. For some, it is.

Guys, I'm accusing Phantom of alien soft-claiming inspector.

Mewtini said:

Hey, pig-serpent. Is your quirk having a bunch of pauses/ellipses in your speech?

What're your guys' favorite animals? I like dogs; also cats. (Especially pop-tart ones...)

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Well...

Maybe... my mom told me not to talk to strangers, I feel uncomfortable answering this question...

I stared at my accuser. "You gotta be kidding me," I grunted.

I pointed at them, barely holding back my frustration at their idiocy. "Aliens? That the Sam Diddly Farce are you talking about?" I pointed at the dead Mayor, who was now being carted away by a bunch of squints. "There was a death last night! Are you new to the big picture or what?!"

I sighed. The cat was out of the bag. Like it could of been kept in in the first place. I mean hell, here I am speaking in a monologue inside my head, smoking enough cigs to kill me in ten minutes flat, wearing a trenchcoat and a hat, yeah, you know who I am. Surprised it didn't come up sooner. "'Ya got me," I admitted, stepping back. "Yeah, I'm a investigator. Best in the game. You want to get through this," I jam my thumb back at the dead Mayor again, "you need me. And you need me alive, my friend. So may I suggest you take a step back and let the real people do their job, and stop ranting about them aliens. Just go put on a tin foil hat and dance the ol' two step under a full moon or whatever it is you crazies do."

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "The mayor was in some fishy business. Ruffled the wrong feathers. But I'd been following 'em, they had no blood on their hands."

I shook my head. "But I doc would be nice, to help out."

Pig-Serpent is your quirk to talk like a nervous child?

Not necessarily...
The first guess was closer to my quirk...
The rest is just... artistic licenses...

Can I go back to playing with my ice-cubes?

Do you have to reference tropes, Pig-Serpent?

Focus people, focus. I think Pig serpent can only end each sentence with something other than a period, and I would like that guess confirmed. Now let's get back to the important stuff.

Phantom said:

I stared at my accuser. "You gotta be kidding me," I grunted.

I pointed at them, barely holding back my frustration at their idiocy. "Aliens? That the Sam Diddly Farce are you talking about?" I pointed at the dead Mayor, who was now being carted away by a bunch of squints. "There was a death last night! Are you new to the big picture or what?!"

I sighed. The cat was out of the bag. Like it could of been kept in in the first place. I mean hell, here I am speaking in a monologue inside my head, smoking enough cigs to kill me in ten minutes flat, wearing a trenchcoat and a hat, yeah, you know who I am. Surprised it didn't come up sooner. "'Ya got me," I admitted, stepping back. "Yeah, I'm a investigator. Best in the game. You want to get through this," I jam my thumb back at the dead Mayor again, "you need me. And you need me alive, my friend. So may I suggest you take a step back and let the real people do their job, and stop ranting about them aliens. Just go put on a tin foil hat and dance the ol' two step under a full moon or whatever it is you crazies do."

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "The mayor was in some fishy business. Ruffled the wrong feathers. But I'd been following 'em, they had no blood on their hands."

I shook my head. "But I doc would be nice, to help out."

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Well yeah, it's either alien or mafia. And after that post, you've been promoted from alien suspect to mafia suspect. You made no attempt to say why you're not alien; on the contrary, the placement of dumbfounded "You gotta be kidding me" and sighing that your secret is out right before and after your fact-free dismissal of you possibly being alien implies that you want us to think you are the alien, now that I brought up the possibility. You didn't even do as much as give a reason for not trying to hide your role identity.

Another thing that makes me think you're mafia instead of alien is you asked for a heal, which if you were alien might prevent you from getting activated. This doesn't mean you're not alien of course; there are other reasons you could have asked for a doc. You could have just been trying to saying what an inspector would say. Which, by the way, is another mistake. You left out something crucial. The day is drawing to a close and you don't know if you'll live another night, yet you forgot to give us last night's inspection result.

Light said:

Well yeah, it's either alien or mafia. And after that post, you've been promoted from alien suspect to mafia suspect. You made no attempt to say why you're not alien; on the contrary, the placement of dumbfounded "You gotta be kidding me" and sighing that your secret is out right before and after your fact-free dismissal of you possibly being alien implies that you want us to think you are the alien, now that I brought up the possibility. You didn't even do as much as give a reason for not trying to hide your role identity.

Another thing that makes me think you're mafia instead of alien is you asked for a heal, which if you were alien might prevent you from getting activated. This doesn't mean you're not alien of course; there are other reasons you could have asked for a doc. You could have just been trying to saying what an inspector would say. Which, by the way, is another mistake. You left out something crucial. The day is drawing to a close and you don't know if you'll live another night, yet you forgot to give us last night's inspection result.

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My hand collided against my forehead with a solid smack.

"'Dumbfounded?'" I said, shaking my head. "That's wasn't being 'dumbfounded' genius. It was exasperation." I sigh once again, taking off my hat and running a hand through my hair. "I told you, I'm an investigator, a cop, the police, el popo, the fuzz, the five-oh." I roll my eyes. "Get it yet? I wanted a doctor because now the scum know about me." I shake my head. "Like I said, you want to get through this alive, you want justice to pull through, you need me."

I shove my hands in my pockets. "About who I 'inspected', it's not my fault you can't read in between then lines. I told you already."

With a show I reach into my pocket, revealing my voice recorder. I make even more of a show pressing the button to playback. My own voice plays back for all to hear.

"The mayor was in some fishy business. Ruffled the wrong feathers. But I'd been following 'em, they had no blood on their hands."

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"Look, buddy, it's not my fault you can't read in between the lines, or know how to clean out your ears. Me being alien, and then making a show of it by actin' somethin' I'm not, downright stupid."

"In fact..."

It only made too much sense. Like two plus two equaling four. This guy had my number, had it out for me, not because he thought I was this 'alien', but because he was trying to take me out of the picture.

"Light," I say, stepping in close, "what do you have to say in your defense?"

((OOC look, Light if you are having trouble understanding me, or if it's just part of your quirk, but your post, literally everything there was answered in my previous posts if you read through them.))

Alright, sorry about the inspection thing. But with lack of time to slowly go through every post you've written, I fail to see an answer to the main reason I think something's up with you. If you're the inspector, why would you wear that on your sleeve day one for everyone to know about?

Light, is your quirk to escribir en cursiva something in your posts?

Throughout the morning heated discussion takes place, with everyone trying to find everyone else's quirk and, more importantly, trying to peg out who's the killer though their interpretations of other players' speech. Phantom is confronted for her very long-winded, third-person nature, while Blastoise Fortooate is questioned repeatedly about his extreme punctuality. There are some good guesses and some bad guesses, but either way the day continued to pass. As the sun got closer to setting, the discussion died down a bit, and as the great ball of fire finally sank below the horizon, leaving quite a few people holding nasty grudges against each other, everyone agreed that they should put the whole thing on hold for the time being and go to bed. The hangman shrugs, not caring whether or not he needs to do his job, and the whole town goes to bed. Or do they?


Reminder: If you are not going to use your night action, please send me a PM stating that.

Ahh, crap. I just striked with my last post.

Light said:

Ahh, crap. I just striked with my last post.

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And this one, apparently.

You're forgiven, go to bed.

For whatever reason, the night seemed longer than usual. But as everyone woke up in the morning, it seemed peaceful. Tense, but peaceful. That was, until the Judge stood up to call the roll. He got about halfway down the list when suddenly he stopped, started choking, and soon fell over. The Nurse walked nervously over to him, feeling his pulse with two fingers. "He's dead," she soon pronounced. Immediately, a commotion broke out.

"People! People!" called the Cleric, trying to take control of the crowd. "We need to band together and eliminate the Mafia at once!" And people listened. They began to share what they had accomplished during the long night. And they began to discuss who was Mafia -- who to give to the Hangman to lynch.

But before the discussion could really get started, a metallic hum began to emanate from the back of the crowd. People turned around to see the Robot walking up. "I HAVE ANALYZED BLASTOISE FORTOOATE'S ACCENT." It drones, and suddenly people are interested. "HE APPARENTLY CANNOT SAY MORE THAN THIRTY WORDS AT ONCE." At once, someone perks up in the crowd. "Wait, what's up with this robot?" they shout, but no one is able to identify who they are.

Regardless of the robot and its strange nature, the town decides to keep discussing the Judge's death and who was responsible.


GM's note: The Robot's actions are random. Any coincidences are the result of its random number generator being silly.