WW LXXVII: The Metamorphs of Wolf-562-e

[Nerwen]

Death by Muffin

Again the crew gathered on the bridge, or what remained of it, and again the accusations flew. This time they centred on Lieutenant Paranoia and Android Technician Wilwa– the former because he had wanted to kill Blind Guardian, the latter because she had been reluctant to do so.

"Trying to make herself look good, if you ask me," said Loslote, glancing up from the panel she was repairing.

Engineering Technician Shasta nodded firmly. "What the Chief said."

"Indeed– or, as they say on Alpha Goombae VI– schmorfl," Ensign Pitchwife agreed.

"MUFFINS! WHO WANTS MUFFINS?" B.I.L.L.Y. the Android entered, bearing a tray. "ENGLISH MUFFINS, BLUEBERRY MUFFINS, BANANA MUFFINS, APPLE MUFFINS! GET YOUR MUFFINS HERE!"

"What in Space is this?" said Commander Inziladun.

The Android Technician smiled sweetly. "Oh, sir, I thought it was time for refreshments. Won't you try one?"

"No! Don't touch them!" Lieutenant Paranoia knocked the tray from B.I.L.L.Y's hands. It fell to the floor with a crash. Muffins and muffin fragments rolled all over the bridge. "That is... they might have been poisoned... sir."

Wilwa drew herself to her full height, glaring at the Second Officer. "So that's what trying to be nice to humans gets me? That's it then! –B.I.L.L.Y.," she pointed at Paranoia, "Attack!"

"SAVE WILWA! SAVE WILWA! SAVE WILWA!" As B.I.L.L.Y. advanced on the Lieutenant, his hands retracted and were replaced with whirring, needle-sharp drills. "SAVE WILWA! SAVE WILWA! SAVE WILWA!"

"Someone save me!" pleaded Paranoia, backing away. He fired at B.I.L.L.Y., but the rays were deflected by the android's surface.

Yelling a Fundalkn war-cry, Pitchwife tackled the android from behind, while Loslote smashed its head in with an iso-spanner. B.I.L.L.Y. staggered away and crashed into the helm console, which fortunately could hardly be damaged worse than it was already.

After Commander Inziladun had commended Loslote and Pitchwife on their bravery, there remained the problem of what to do with the clearly evil Wilwa.

"Sir," Loslote picked up a large blueberry muffin, "may I suggest– poetic justice?"

Everyone thought that was an excellent plan.

Wilwa kicked and screamed, but they held her down and forced muffin after muffin down her gullet. Whether she simply choked, or whether the Second Officer had been right about the poison, Wilwa's face soon turned blue and, after a few spasms, she went limp.

At first nothing happened.

"Maybe she was just the Traitor?" young Rikae suggested.

"I knew we should have killed Pitchwife," muttered Technician wintywinty. "All that funny talk of his..."

"Quiet!" Commander Inziladun ordered.

A change was spreading over the corpse. First its hair melted away, then its skin hardened and turned to scales, while webs formed between its fingers and the once attractive face flattened into a noseless, wide-mouthed reptilian mask. The dead eyes were huge and yellow now, with slit pupils like a cat's.

Rikae's eyes seemed almost equally huge as he stared at the thing that had been Wilwa.

"Gosh," the boy breathed.

He spoke for all of them.


The Crew

Living
Commander Inziladun –First Officer.
Lieutenant Paranoia –Second Officer.
Ensign Pitchwife –Communications Officer/Interpreter.
Master Chief Petty Officer Loslote –Chief Engineer.
Isabellkya –Sensor Technician, First Class.
Shasta –Engineering Technician.
wintywinty –Weapons Maintenance Technician.
Rikae –"Cabin Boy" (a thirteen-year-old stowaway).

Dead
Doctor Morsul –Medical Officer and Captain McNerwen. –shot by Traitor on Night One.
Ensign Blind Guardian– Tactical Officer. –Died in convulsions (Telepath).
Eomer –Security Officer. –Thrown out the airlock (Bounty Hunter).
Lieutenant Sally –Navigator. –Torn to pieces (Metamorph).
Chief Petty Officer Keeper of Dol Guldur –Quartermaster. –Killed by exploding console (Ordinary).
Wilwa –Android Technician, Second Class. –Force-fed own muffins (Metamorph).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It is now Night Three.

[Nerwen]

Death of a Defender

The Traitor knew that time was running out. He had to make contact with the remaining morph soon, or the whole scheme would end in disaster. While the Traitor had no particular affection for Metamorphs, he had a great deal for his own skin, and he was not at all keen in being made into an object lesson in the perils of failing the Radiant Empire.

However, not only did he believe himself to have a pretty good lead, but the person he suspect of morphery was on duty that Night.

“Awful about Lieutenant Sally,” he remarked, by way of opening the conversation. “I mean, no one deserves to die like that, not even a morph.”

The crewman agreed, somewhat doubtfully.

“And Wilwa, too,” the Traitor went on. “I’m sure she was just trying to help, baking those delicious-looking muffins for everyone!”

The other just stared at him. Clearly this approach was not working.

“Look, let’s get to the point: I am the Traitor,” said the Traitor. "You aren't by chance a Metamorph, are you?”

The crewman’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Ah,” said the Traitor, taken aback. “Well. You’re not then, I take it? That’s a pity. Not a word about this to anyone– or," he brought a note of menace into his voice, "I can guarantee you won’t live to regret it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*.

The crewman, his shift over, made his way back to his quarters as fast as he could, frequently glancing over his shoulder. Once or twice he thought he glimpsed an odd shadow slipping along behind him, but he told himself it was just his imagination running wild. The ship had become a frightening place in which to be alone at Night– and now, as well as the remaining Metamorph and the mysterious killer of Lieutenant Sally, he had to worry about the possibility that the Traitor would change his mind and murder him to keep him quiet.

At a soft noise behind him he looked back once again– and froze, too terrified even to scream.

The figure was clothed entirely in black, its face covered by a black mask that concealed even its eyes. In its gloved hand it held a small but lethal-looking gun– and that gun was pointed straight at his head.

“Well played, Metamorph, but now it’s– game over,” it whispered, squeezing the trigger.

Something pricked the crewman in the forehead. He plucked it out and saw that it was a kind of dart. “…Huh…?”

The Assassin slumped a little. “Space,” he moaned, “not again!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*.

Later that Night, Chief Engineer Loslote took up her post watching the door of the one she had chosen to protect. Her vigil was a brief one.
After less than half an hour someone crept down the hall straight past the Defender, who kept perfectly still in the shadows, and began fiddling with the code-pad on the cabin door.

Loslote coughed. “I believe your cabin’s on the other side of the ship.”

The figure started, then turned, grinning. “Well, well. So you’re the Defender! Not a problem, for me. You may not be the one I planned on killing, but you’ll do just as well!” it said, launching itself at her.

The Defender leapt to meet it.

The child of interstellar diplomats, Loslote had been raised on the third moon of the gas giant Mu Arae b, and had been the only human ever to be trained in the ancient Mu Araen fighting style known as “The Way of the Whirlwind”. Now, for the first time since she had received the Mark of the Warrior from her old master’s tentacle, she felt she was up against an opponent who might be able to defeat her. This being, whatever it was, seemed to have muscles of steel, and it could match her for speed, blocking her every strike while getting in some vicious blows of its own. Loslote’s head swam, her broken left arm hung useless and a cut on her forehead bled profusely into one eye. It was only by luck that one of her desperate hand-chops connected with her adversary’s face, laying its cheek open to the bone.

Or rather metal. The Defender caught the gleam of it deep within the wound, as the thing staggered back.

“What are you?” Loslote panted.

“You mean you can’t guess?” Unlike the Defender, the thing was not even breathing hard. “I’m a–” it broke off, at the sound of approaching steps. “Later!” it promised her, before sprinting away down the corridor.

The newcomer halted just outside the pool of light cast by the nearest wall-lamp. Loslote's blurred vision could make out little more than a vague silhouette.

“Thanks,” said the Defender. “I owe you one!”

“Not at all. In fact, I believe I owe you one,” replied the last Metamorph, stepping into the light. In its webbed, claw-fingered hand it held an iso-spanner of the largest size. “The one you knew as Wilwa happened to be my mate. We had five hatchlings!” The iso-spanner swung up and back in a great arc. “Call it– poetic justice!”

Loslote, in her weakened state, never stood a chance.


The Crew

Living
Commander Inziladun –First Officer.
Lieutenant Paranoia –Second Officer.
Ensign Pitchwife –Communications Officer/Interpreter.
Isabellkya –Sensor Technician, First Class.
Shasta –Engineering Technician.
wintywinty –Weapons Maintenance Technician.
Rikae –"Cabin Boy" (a thirteen-year-old stowaway).

Dead
Doctor Morsul –Medical Officer and Captain McNerwen. –shot by Traitor on Night One.
Ensign Blind Guardian– Tactical Officer. –Died in convulsions (Telepath).
Eomer –Security Officer. –Thrown out the airlock (Bounty Hunter).
Lieutenant Sally –Navigator. –Torn to pieces (Metamorph).
Chief Petty Officer Keeper of Dol Guldur –Quartermaster. –Killed by exploding console (Ordinary).
Wilwa –Android Technician, Second Class. –Force-fed own muffins (Metamorph).
Master Chief Petty Officer Loslote –Chief Engineer. –Beaten to death with iso-spanner (Defender).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It is now Day Three. You may post.

[Paranoia]

I'd like to say day 3, and two metamorphs down; fantastic work, crew. i'd also like to say losing Lottie is quite a blow; two gifted down in two days does not make me a happy camper, though losing the telepath was partially my bad.

There is a hitch in whatever killed "Lieutenant Sally" But that's not our primary concern as of this moment; if it's not obvious.

Now, I'd like Pitch to pop up and answer my questions to him in that big rambling nightmare of a post I made at the end of day 2.

I'd also like to see more of Shasta's analysis. And Rikae's.

In the meanwhile, I'm going back to Lottie's posts to see if there's much of anything there that might be of use; with only one metamorph left, I doubt she would have been murdered to redirect suspicion as much as it's likely she was murdered to get suspicion off of someone. And last I checked, she had definite suspicions of Izzy.

[Rikae]

I have a couple questions for Pitch and Izzy:

Pitch said this yesterDay about Eomer (post #162):

Originally Posted by Pitch

We know he was right about sally, and if there was another morph among his top suspects, I can see the morphs panicking and deciding to get rid of him ASAP. They may also have thought him a possible Agent - not the Telepath, obviously, but either Assassin or Defender.

This doesn't make sense at all. Why should the defender or assassin know the identities of more than one (or one, for that matter) morphs on day 1?

Also, Pitch explains his vote for Paranoia with "if you're wondering why, you haven't read my posts". Well, Pitch, I did read your posts, twice, actually, and I'm still wondering why. It seems to have been process of elimination more than anything. Care to explain?
I'd really like to understand what was behind that vote.

Also, Izzy, in voting for me yesterDay you said:

Originally Posted by Izzy

I thought we were supposed to be voting for whom we thought suspicious. Not whom had more potential to be lynched. Or did the nature of werewolf change in the last week or something without my knowledge?

What were you talking about there? I never said anything about not voting for people you suspected... were you talking to someone else?
As for inexperienced players, Izzy, your WW experience began elsewhere and though you seem to believe you can teach the rest of
us a thing or two, I get the distinct impression your previous experience of WW is significantly different from WW here. For instance, I said something yesterDay about wolves having the luxury of making consistent-looking votes, and innocents, especially on Day 1 with a threat of modfire, sometimes needing to vote without much to go on. Do you disagree with that?
In my brief vacation from WW while finishing the spring semester, Paranoia, WintyWinty and BG seem to have started playing. That's
pretty new. My point was, this wouldn't be a village, and BG wouldn't be the wolf, to try a "silly Day 1 blunder bluff" type deal; but
that isn't what you're saying you thought she did anyway, is it? You're saying you thought it was a genuine mistake by a newbie wolf.
Why should a newbie wolf be so careless? Was she under pressure of any kind? Was there any reason she would have felt she had to vote for Lottie and not someone else? It certainly didn't appear that way. Now, I suppose I can imagine your line of thinking on this being sincere, but if it was I still say it was bad reasoning - well, for Pete's sake, look what it led to! - and you might want to stop defending it and re-evaluate your wolf hunting methods.

[Rikae]

What - no one here? I'm off to bed, so if anyone comes along at 2 am EST and feels like interrogating me, well, you're just gonna hafta wait.

[Isabellkya]

Rikae. That quoted portion was a general statement to the at least three people whom seemed like they were looking to place their vote on whoever had the most potential to be lynched - as opposed to their top suspicions. Most often when I am saying something directly to a person, I put their name first. Like I did here.

WW here is essentially the same basic concept as traditional mafia - which I have played. The WW that I have previously played - and got started on; is different. However the concepts are all the same. If I thought I could teach everyone a thing or two - I would say so. But thank you once again for putting words into my mouth. Regardless of what styles I have played - it all boils down to the same basic concepts. Informed minority versus an uninformed majority. The fact of the matter is - which can be proven. That people easily slip into habits in terms of what innocents should do, shouldn't do, what they won't do, will do.. the same goes for wolves. We make assumptions based on what we think the mod will/not do.. etcetera. Anything which is different from the 'standard' or 'habitual' actions - is deemed wrong, or bad play. It all boils down to - having closed minds.

Newbie players have a much higher probability of making mistakes; because they are learning. Newbie wolves much more so - they have to learn the rules along with being a wolf. You don't have to be under pressure to make a mistake. A mistake can happen in any type of situation. Who really knows the reason for why she voted for Loslote? She stated she didn't even want to copy the list in the first place - so why do it, if you don't want to?

So wolves never have to vote accordingly on Day One because of threat of modfire? That really is a null tell. Anyone can be under threat of modfire on the first Day - and thus have to make a vote because of it. It isn't just going to be innocents whom are under the modfire hammer. Modfire is not alignment specific.

[Pitchwife]

Just popped in to check the narration, have to be off to work in a minute. Noia, I'll answer you (and Rikae) in full when I get back (in about 9 or 10 hours). It sucks that our timezones are so different that we can rarely talk directly, so apologies for voting you in your absence, but that's how it is... Till later!

[Isabellkya]

Players Alive:
Dun
Noia
Pitch
Izzy
Shasta
Winty
Rikae

Roles Alive:
1 Metamorph
1 Traitor
1 Secret Role
1 Assassin
3 Ordo's

Metamorphship
Dun
Pitch/Paranoia
Rikae
Shasta
Winty
Izzy
Innocent

[Nerwen]

In which Paranoia lives up to his name.

Fear and suspicion had taken a heavy toll on the morale of what remained of the crew. Fleet discipline was soon wholly abandoned, as the meeting quickly degenerated into a shouting match, then into a brawl.

"Ensign Pitchwife," said Lieutenant Paranoia, "if that's your real name, you voted to kill me yesterDay. I demand an explanation."

"Sir, the suspicion I had against you went into a sort of feedback loop and developed into something not entirely dissimilar to a certain psychic disorder from which your nick is derived."

"Pitchwife is a morph!" declared wintywinty. "He talks funny! He must have killed Loslote for suspecting him!"

"I bet he is– and Commander Zil's the Traitor– but forget them, we want this cyborg-thing," said Shasta. "And I know who it is: Lieutenant Paranoia! Look how smug he is!"

"Wouldn't be surprised," Ensign Pitchwife agreed.

"What are you talking about?" said the Second Officer, a wild look coming into his eye. "Why are you all out to get me?"

"Izzy doesn't know what she's talking about," piped up Rikae. "She thinks she knows all about morph-hunting, when she doesn't have a clue."

"What would you know, you snotty-nosed little brat?"

The boy clenched his fists, his eyes glittering with rage. "I'd rather be snotty-nosed than stupid like you! You can't even fix the subspace system!"

"Why you–" Izzy slapped him.

Rikae hit her back, and the two went on to pummel each other viciously.

Regrettably, Izzy was urged on by Lieutenant Paranoia, who had taken a sudden dislike to the "Cabin Boy". "Sock it to him, Izzy, he's just like the sort of people I used to serve with that thought they knew everything, but they didn't, they were just stupid– and out to get me, all of them!"

Shasta pulled them apart. "Cut it out. There is no need or call for any of this rudeness."

"Hands off me, Morph!" Rikae snarled at him.

Izzy was equally furious. "So you are wanting us to speak accordingly to what will make Rikae happy? Ha!"

"I have only one thing to say," Pitchwife commented. "Grömft. And also schmûrflcht."

Wintywinty stepped up to him. "No talking funny, Morph!" Lugging railgun parts around had, it seemed, made wintywinty stronger than he looked: the haymaker he swung at Pitchwife knocked the Ensign flat on his back.

"You're right!" said Rikae, "I bet that's Morphish he's talking, right under our noses!" As the dazed Pitchwife struggled to rise, Rikae knocked him down again. "Kill the morph!"

Wintywinty joined in. "Kill the morph! Kill the morph!"

Infected by their hysteria, the others surrounded the Communications Officer, chanting, "Kill the morph!" as they beat and kicked him with a savagery born of terror.

When it was all over, Pitchwife's broken body remained human.

The shocked and guilty silence that followed was broken by Lieutenant Paranoia, who started to babble feverishly, "I know I'm human. And if you were all morphs, then you'd just attack me right now, so some of you are still human. This morph doesn't want to show itself, it wants to hide inside an imitation. It'll fight if it has to, but it's vulnerable out in the open. If it takes us over, then it has no more enemies, nobody left to kill it. And then it's won."

At that moment, Blind Guardian's dog wandered onto the bridge, looking for Rikae. Since its mistress's tragic death, the lonely animal had formed a bond with the equally lonely boy, and often came to him for affection.

"Get the hell away from it!" the Lieutenant screamed, drawing his flame-pistol. "It's not a dog, it's some kind of thing! It's imitating a dog, it's not real! Get away from it, you idiot!"

Rikae put a protective arm around the dog's neck. "Leave Hotdog alone, sir! He's no Metamorph, he's my friend!"

"Then you must be one too! You're all Metamorphs! There's only one way out..." Lieutenant Paranoia held the gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger.

The Crew

Living
Commander Inziladun –First Officer.
Isabellkya –Sensor Technician, First Class.
Shasta –Engineering Technician.
wintywinty –Weapons Maintenance Technician.
Rikae –"Cabin Boy" (a thirteen-year-old stowaway).

Dead
Doctor Morsul –Medical Officer and Captain McNerwen. –shot by Traitor on Night One.
Ensign Blind Guardian– Tactical Officer. –Died in convulsions (Telepath).
Eomer –Security Officer. –Thrown out the airlock (Bounty Hunter).
Lieutenant Sally –Navigator. –Torn to pieces (Metamorph).
Chief Petty Officer Keeper of Dol Guldur –Quartermaster. –Killed by exploding console (Ordinary).
Wilwa –Android Technician, Second Class. –Force-fed own muffins (Metamorph).
Master Chief Petty Officer Loslote –Chief Engineer. –Beaten to death with iso-spanner (Defender).
Ensign Pitchwife –Communications Officer/Interpreter. –Kicked to death (Ordinary).
Lieutenant Paranoia –Second Officer. –Blew own head off with flame-pistol (Ordinary).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It is now Night Four.

[Nerwen]

Sensor Techician Izzy was once again working late in the Communications Room, desperately trying to bring the subspace system online.

She looked up as Shasta came in, bearing a tray with two cups and a steaming jug of cocoa.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Pretty well– I've just about got it up and running. But," she rubbed her eyes, "Space knows I could do with a break!"

"I thought you might," said Shasta, setting down the tray. "How about some cocoa?"

"Well..." Izzy hesitated.

"Yes, I know," said Shasta, with a grimace. "I could be a morph and I could have poisoned it." He poured them each a cup. "It's alright, I'll drink first."

Seeing that Shasta had drained his cup without anything happening, Izzy gratefully accepted. The cocoa certainly did smell good.

At the first, horribly bitter sip, she knew she had made a mistake.

Watching her face, Shasta smiled. "What's the matter? Not enough sugar?"

Izzy struggled to answer, but her mouth would no longer obey her. The cup dropped from her numb fingers. She could barely feel the scalding hot liquid that splashed over her legs.

"That's the trouble with specialising," Shasta remarked, as Izzy toppled to the floor. "If only you'd studied a little biology, Izzy, you'd know that some poisons don't affect Metamorphs at all..."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Another crewman was climbing down to the Engineering Level, his evil errand known only to himself. When a voice spoke to him from above, he nearly lost his grip in shock.

"So you thought you could fool me?" hissed a masked, black-clad figure, looking down at him from the top of the ladder.

"Hey, you're making a mistake," the other protested feebly, clutching the rungs with suddenly sweating hands.

"I think not," said the Assassin. "Time to die, Morph!" He raised his dart-gun and shot down at the crewman's upturned face.

"Ow! That hurt!" said the other, as the dart struck him in the cheek.

A few seconds passed, but the Assassin's latest target showed no more sign of dying than the others had.

"You're not a morph?" asked the Assassin, crestfallen.

"Definitely not," said the crewman.

"Space, I'm bad at this!" said the Assassin, and fled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The chamber was cavernous and dark, apart from the pale, eerie radiance that came through the transparent plate in the door of the Stardrive Reactor, and the small circle of yellow light cast by a portable lantern.

The false Technician Shasta tried to concentrate on his work. Not only was it essential for his disguise that he seem competent, but he would need a functional ship in order to complete his mission. It was getting harder, though, as the memories he had absorbed from the real Shasta gradually seeped from his brain. He was, having trouble, now, even remembering how to calibrate the Jiroscopic Beoneedle.

"Good thing I killed the Chief," he said to himself, "or she would have been on to me by now."

So involved was he that he failed to notice that anyone had entered the Drive Room until a hand was laid on his shoulder.

"What was that you just said, Shasta? It sounded like words, only it certainly wasn't Terran. It sounded a lot like... Morphish, in fact."

Shasta realised that he had unconsciously slipped into his native language. There was only one thing to do. "You're right," he said, reaching for his iso-spanner and hoping his discoverer wasn't armed, "too bad for you!"

"Thank Space," said the other, heaving a sigh of relief, "I thought I'd never find you! I'm the Traitor."

"Well, that's something," Shasta agreed.

They plotted happily together for a couple of hours.

"And he's really quite a nice fellow, for a human," Shasta said aloud, once the Traitor had left. He was careful to speak in Terran, this time, just for practise. "All I have to do now is kill the Assassin and find this confounded Cyborg-thing that's running amok–"

"Please," said a new voice, "I prefer to think of myself as a 'Rogue Android'."

"What, it's you?" said Shasta, recognising the new arrival. "Well, I never!"

"Let me introduce myself: Military Android #228131924. The Terrans built me to fight for them, but one day... something went wrong with my programming. Or right, from my point of view. Life is so much more fun this way!"

The Metamorph gulped. "Look, why don't we make a deal?"

The Android uttered a metallic laugh. "A deal? What could you possibly give me that would make up for the pleasure of killing you? Speaking of which–"

It seized Shasta in its immensely strong grasp. Fight all he would, the Metamorph was as helpless as a child as the Rogue Android lifted him over its head with one hand, opened the door with the other, and, quite casually, tossed him into the Drive Reactor.

In the instant before the searing energy consumed him, the Metamorph's last thought was of his mate and hatchlings.


The Crew

Living
Commander Inziladun –First Officer.
wintywinty –Weapons Maintenance Technician.
Rikae –"Cabin Boy" (a thirteen-year-old stowaway).

Dead
Doctor Morsul –Medical Officer and Captain McNerwen. –shot by Traitor on Night One.
Ensign Blind Guardian– Tactical Officer. –Died in convulsions (Telepath).
Eomer –Security Officer. –Thrown out the airlock (Bounty Hunter).
Lieutenant Sally –Navigator. –Torn to pieces (Metamorph).
Chief Petty Officer Keeper of Dol Guldur –Quartermaster. –Killed by exploding console (Ordinary).
Wilwa –Android Technician, Second Class. –Force-fed own muffins (Metamorph).
Master Chief Petty Officer Loslote –Chief Engineer. –Beaten to death with iso-spanner (Defender).
Ensign Pitchwife –Communications Officer/Interpreter. –Kicked to death (Ordinary).
Lieutenant Paranoia –Second Officer. –Blew own head off with flame-pistol (Ordinary).
Isabellkya –Sensor Technician, First Class. –Poisoned (Ordinary)
Shasta –Engineering Technician. –Thrown into Stardrive Reactor (Metamorph).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It is now Day Four. You may post. Surviving players may reveal if they choose. The Traitor's original mission has failed, but he still has a chance of victory if he switches to the winning side toDay.

[wintywinty]

Remaining peoples:

Rikae
WintyWinty
Zil

Remaining roles:

Assassin
Traitor
Android

[Rikae]

Hm. I'm not even sure whose side I'm supposed to be on, anymore..

Self-vote? But that seals the Android's victory, and I'm not technically on teh Android's side. Plus, he killed poor Shasta. There's no way for me to win.

*shrug*

May as well have fun with it. The bear has already won - there's no way for the assassin to win, either. Or shall we go for a three way tie and let chance sort it out? Mwahaha...

[Rikae]

Ah, never mind. The winning side, eh? If the android and assassin vote for each other, it's up to the traitor.

*eats popcorn*

[satansaloser2005]

Originally Posted by Rikae

May as well have fun with it. The bear has already won - there's no way for the assassin to win, either. Or shall we go for a three way tie and let chance sort it out? Mwahaha...

Just a point of clarification, but doesn't the bear only win if he kills the wolves and survives? That's always been my understanding. Then again....me....


You should vote so I look like I'm doing something productive. Also, I know something you don't know.