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Too busy to write a whole retrospective or anything, but many thanks to y'all for playing and kudos to Yellow and Inkedust for especially fantastic debut performances. Nice going! I'm interested in playing and hosting games of Mafia in the future~ In particular, I wouldn't mind being one to...

[[Bench, if you're Town Cop, you'd be throwing away one of the most valuable pieces for an Innocent victory so a guy who hasn't posted might theoretically join in. That's no good. In fact, I'm now worried you have some sort of power that kills people for lynching you, or a Mafia version of the...

Jesse sighed. This was a tough one. By nature, he preferred to prevent harm as much as possible... But unlike back home, he didn't have overwhelming power, forcible telepathy, nor his other usual advantages. He had to rely on guesswork, and the most trustworthy looking persons nearby. It made...

Good, now that his notes were more or less in order, Jesse could respond to stuff properly... Well, that was a wild leap of reasoning. All he'd done was give a funny look, and the gal was apologising for thinking the delphox was a delphox...? What even— But that was a distraction. The party...

Jesse worked as if he were unwell, or in trance, hardly looking up to respond properly except to groan at the uncertainty about how the Mafia dimension worked or the tooth-pulling difficulty of getting info out of the chimera. Still, at last, he completed his logging, and looked up to address...

Jesse pinched the bridge of his muzzle and sighed. "Let's make the best of this. Hopefully a townie will keep Arctozolt from gettin' merked in the night an' the fuckers can make 'emselves useful. I'm still workin' on my notes, bear with me..."

Jesse rubbed his temple as he took a break from his note-taking. "Good gods, fella. Spit it the fuck out already. Yer a fuckin' speaker fer the dead or some shit, fine, let's hear it. I legitimately don't know why yer tail is so fuckin' keen not to let on."

"Goddamnit," spat Jesse. "I'm too tired fer this shit. Right, first up, anyone have any idea how the fuck this happened?"

"Aw hell, y'can do that here? I might just have t'do the same." Jesse produced a bottle labelled with a marowak skull, and started drinking as he continued his stenography. "Sure was a fuckin' claim, I'd say! If the critter later depends on the notion that they got some power that's useful...

"Gods," muttered Jesse, "this shit goes a mile a minute, don't it?" He started amending his boards. "I'm gonna make a compromise an' keep this shit concise. Can't afford to take everythin' down in that level of detail th'rest of the game..." "Okay, lessee... I jumped the wand a bit about...

Jesse kept grinning. "And did it work?"

Jesse scowled. In his fist, the stick of chalk snapped into pieces. "So if I make an error, perhaps you oughta correct me, like I fuckin' asked. Stenography is an asset to anyone, same as any information. Issue with a game like this is asymmetry of information. Mafia already know exactly what...

[[Can't edit my last post, realised I'd forgotten to fix this after writing everything else.]] Jesse's Character Tracker Alexander | Hydreigon | he/him | Namohysip Nobody Altair | Yamask | he/him | Inkedust Nobody Arctozolt | they/them plural | IFBench Nobody Chappie | Luxio | she/her |...

[[So, pretty fun start to the game, huh? I got to read a shitton of posts speculating about Jesse-as-Arsonist first thing in the morning, because I fell asleep ten minutes before Day One, i.e. 1 am UK time. Naturally, Jesse and I cannot respond live while I'm asleep. This is reflected in the...

Jesse smirked to himself at that. What could he say? Downright fucking reasonable. Still, fuck you, Ambrose. Jesse grimaced. "Right. All I could do last time was chew out some fuckin' desk jockey fer the entities as set up the damn thing, an' my intuition says they ain't the same as set this...

Jesse nodded, mouth twisting into a dry grimace. This was gonna be an experience and half. And to think. One of them could be out to kill the other, once the game started. Or not. Briefly, he wondered which would be worse. Having to take the fucker on, or having to work with him. Jesse curled...

"Nah, I don't expect so, partner," drawled Jesse. "I'm in the same position as yerself and everyone else stuck here. We play the game. We maybe-die. We maybe-live. And if we're damn lucky, we get t'go home after." He rested a fist on his hip and looked appraisingly at Dave with his own head...

In his head, Jesse was already keeping track of who was who. Shortly, he'd manifest a chalkboard, consult his mental notes, and get it all written up for the sake of everyone else, perhaps.

Well, wasn't this just fucking splendid. One universe after another, without rhyme or reason, none of them his own, and still with that bone-deep fatigue and head-splitting migraine. He could do without being conscious. He could do without being fucking alive. But here he was, again, playing...