The town of Rachel is almost empty. The Alien is gone… the Alien DNA infections apparently eradicated. And the hunt for those who have attempted to infiltrate the peaceful, science-nerd-filled town has caused the death, often gruesome, of most of the residents.
When tourist season starts here near Roswell, there will be hardly enough cashiers to man the tills.
The scared and angry citizens have surrounded the handsome one. Those good lookers are ALWAYS suspicious, after all. The other three stood around him.
The handsome one had grown somewhat quiet of late. His facial exercises, intended to keep his skin tone luxuriant, had also made his mouth sore. It hurt to talk. It hurt to smile. The only thing it did NOT hurt to do was look in the mirror. Even as he stands by ghug, he keeps glancing at his wristwatch. Not to see what time it was. But to see his reflection. No one is looking at him all that much lately. Did his brilliant good looks distract them from seeing who he really was?
The British one grits his teeth… it hurts a little, due to the poor dentistry in Albion. He lost, at some point, his flipping-coin. So he hadn’t been able to keep his promise of vote-by-flip. Everyone knew that he was not an imposter or fake or evil person at all. But did they?
The Brazilian one had tried so many personalities this last few weeks that even HE had lost track of who he was. A dead Austrian emperor? A martini-drinking beach bum? A kindly father, always willing to spend more time with his children than playing games? A member of a secret society, attempting to overcome Rachel? Or just a plain old cidadie?
And the one in the center of the group. Computer programming was really nothing more than playing with cards. Cards with holes in them. He often assumed an angry and erasable persona, but he did this mostly to distract others from his real nature. Sweet, kind, loving, soft… and deceptive. While he often wasn’t who he didn’t say he was or wasn’t, he usually wasn’t who he was saying he was or wasn’t.
It was time to find out.
The Brit, The Handsome, the programmer, and The Brazilian lept and screamed. And Maniac fell beneath their furor. Months of pent up frustration and fear lent power to their attack. They had endured strange random acts of injustice, temper tantrums, government errors, grave mistakes, blurted confessions, and a lack of Pringle’s Potato Chips (since they had not been invented yet…) And now they wanted to KNOW.
Maniac’s wrecked face STILL was handsome. In fact, everyone pauses a moment to admire it.
But even that appearance was incorrect. Because the dental remains of the body showed that maniac was really British. In fact… VERY British. So British that the true name of the last Mafia must be maniac99uk!
Unless, when looking closer, the cudgeoned and cut form revealed a gentle, South American family man. A man named after a southern European holiday location… with a couple of initials in front… the baddie MUST be rd rivera.
Unless… those bright eyes and card-worn fingertips show that he was a programmer all along!
But no.
Nothing really hidden.
Maniac has died. He was a Vanilla Towniac
Rdrivera2005 has died. He was Vanilla Townie
Jamiet99uk has died. He was the Alien Researcher
Mafia Has Won!
Ghug, brainbomb, worcej, bunnygo, and thamrick.
Thanks for playing, everyone!
We DID have some hiccoughs, but ND and I hope the game remained enjoyable. It has been a while, I think, till the game progressed to this ‘right down to the wire’ ending.
Here is the GodThread
https://www.quicktopic.com/53/H/gaBqqWrkTNY
Jamie and I received Hellenic Riot’s proposed game set-up. We’ll review. Watch for news.