@Mindreaver: Which vote(s) do you see as scum jumping onto kpaca's wagon?
God that sounds so cocky. Like "it was me, hahaha, and you can't say that I jumped, since i was first!". Just read it as totally gloating.
I think you were the most suspect (kettle screams the pot should be lynched because of how black it is). And like I said, I wasn't dazzled by shadow's vote either (buried in a wall of spliced posts, his reasoning was "I want to lynch Shinichi/kpaca, and since kpaca already has a wagon:". Like, the biggest "pass the buck" move ever. The ONLY redeeming think there, is that he might have been trying to force kpaca to claim. But I think even that is meeting him more than half way (like, would town need to force anyone to claim who has been posting this little?). I think if I was looking for scum, it's one of you two.
My only read right now is soft town on shinchi but I mean it's really to early to tell.
Getting slight town reads from the guy who i called aggresive, should i be worried.
This comes across as very townie to me. Most of his other posting makes me uneasy, so this post could just be an outlier; but my split reads have tended towards being town in the past.
We had roughly 7 people actively posting in the beginning. My hypothesis is, that there is some number of scum in:
Grapefruit21
kpaca
Quickhoodies
Shinichi
Vaimes
Wheat_Grinder
Sorry to cut out most of this post, but i have to agree with you here outside of myself im sure atleast 1 of these players are scum if not 2.
If it's 1 then im pretty positive one of the quiet one is partnered with a talker. Though this theory is completely invalid if 3 mafia are in this game but i feel as though its more likely 2 are involved.
Ngl I'm not a fan of narrowing down suspects like this. I think this is a scummy thing to do - it directs attention away from the person who makes the list and the people not in the list and gets the people in the list to be against each other. I've seen this before, although much later in the game. You can analyze interactions to theorize alignment, but listing? If Mindreaver is a townie, then this might just end up giving scum a free pass. If they're scum, then this list is actually quite manipulative. And I think it's working.
Like this post from RE a lot. Slight scumlean prior, but this swing him around.
Roger's 223 has a lot of questions, can't really tell what his views are yet.
His next 2 posts do offer some viewpoints. The Roger/Mindreaver interaction does not feel like S/S.
We had roughly 7 people actively posting in the beginning. My hypothesis is, that there is some number of scum in:
Grapefruit21
kpaca
Quickhoodies
Shinichi
Vaimes
Wheat_Grinder
Sorry to cut out most of this post, but i have to agree with you here outside of myself im sure atleast 1 of these players are scum if not 2.
If it's 1 then im pretty positive one of the quiet one is partnered with a talker. Though this theory is completely invalid if 3 mafia are in this game but i feel as though its more likely 2 are involved.
Ngl I'm not a fan of narrowing down suspects like this. I think this is a scummy thing to do - it directs attention away from the person who makes the list and the people not in the list and gets the people in the list to be against each other. I've seen this before, although much later in the game. You can analyze interactions to theorize alignment, but listing? If Mindreaver is a townie, then this might just end up giving scum a free pass. If they're scum, then this list is actually quite manipulative. And I think it's working.
Interesting. I like you. Moving you to the town column. I hadn't really thought about it in that way.
I wasn't really trying to, give anyone a pass. I just wanted to share my thought process in the beginning. Obviously it's going to change. It's entirely possible that the entire scum team didn't post actively when the game started. In that case, I'm still pretty set on AG, at least until I get more from him. I'd like an answer from terry as well.
No one else feel weirded out be this post, it feels like reaver just pocketed RE10 super hard here.
Uncertain about Mindreaver's post, but I can see what Shinichi is getting at and like what he's doing.
Not a fan of his next few posts, though.
From the first half, not a fan of lynching either Shinichi or RE. I could buy either of them as scum, but I feel like whether they are town or scum will become clearer as the game goes on. Roger/Rhand and Kpaca I'm much less certain we'll be able to accurately read.
@Mindreaver: Which vote(s) do you see as scum jumping onto kpaca's wagon?
God that sounds so cocky. Like "it was me, hahaha, and you can't say that I jumped, since i was first!". Just read it as totally gloating.
I think you were the most suspect (kettle screams the pot should be lynched because of how black it is). And like I said, I wasn't dazzled by shadow's vote either (buried in a wall of spliced posts, his reasoning was "I want to lynch Shinichi/kpaca, and since kpaca already has a wagon:". Like, the biggest "pass the buck" move ever. The ONLY redeeming think there, is that he might have been trying to force kpaca to claim. But I think even that is meeting him more than half way (like, would town need to force anyone to claim who has been posting this little?). I think if I was looking for scum, it's one of you two.
I haven't gone back over the kpaca wagon yet, but I can see your shadow reasoning.
Since people seem to be misunderstanding my unvote. I voted kpaca in RVS and unvoted him because I was completely uninvolved in his wagon. Having a random vote left on someone while they approach lynching threshold made me uncomfortable.
A wild AG appears!
He uses Wall.
It's Super effective!
But seriously that was the towniest thing AG has done all game. I like his owning up to the weak got even if it's way too late. Not in the town leans yet. Just not willing to CFD there anymore.
This is an open invitation to pile onto Shinichi. If he's town, mislynching him is a step towards your win condition. If he's your partner, you'll reap some sick towncred. And you probably won't get caught! Whereas a No Lynch will just make the game a drag for everyone.
If we have enough people on I'd CFD onto almost anyone to ensure we do get a lycnh. No Mind. No QH. Really don't want to do Vaimes, AG, or Shadow, but no lynch sucks hard.
kpaca isn't here, WG won't lynch Shinichi, Mindreaver won't, AG won't, and Shinichi won't.
We'd need ALL of [QH, JoeTerry, RE] to switch over, which very likely isn't happening (I can't remember their reads on him, but I doubt they're even gonna show up so whocares.jpg), which means this lynch isn't going through.
No Lynch isn't the end of the world, but it's just going to be an EXACT repeat of toDay, with the same exact suspect pool, minus an active villager, which is ******* irritating.
No one is going to get shot for having accurate reads because 0 wagons have gotten any traction.
And it's honestly kind of embarrassing that we couldn't agree on a lynch target on a website that has the longest Day phases ever. I could play an entire game on my homesite in two weeks without us diddling around and hoping someone scumclaims so we can lynch them.
In case I don't wake up Rhand's progression on me made very little sense, Shinichi and Roger (who is now Rhand) have done nothing but deny and discredit. If one of the Terry/RE dichotomy is scum it's Terry. If Mind flips scum (which is highly unlikely), lynch Shadow. Kpaca's read on Shin on page one was a joke and don't let yourself be easily wow'd if the slot replaces.
I have a decision to make, and I'd like some feedback from peers not in the game, so even though Day is officially over, Night has not yet officially begun.
In the mist, figures approached and receded like tides. Some seemed ready to overwhelm Starling and drag her under, others barely registered. Each had its own agenda, one man, a killer she knew in a past life, wanting her to come with him; an old friend telling her to stay where she was, that help was on its way; a total stranger trying to pick a fight. The words they spoke came to Starling out of sync with the lips moving on the phantasms' faces , but all felt tinged with menace. Starling found herself bracing for each interaction with dread and foreboding. Something was going to happen, and she felt it in her heart that it would be something bad.
But then, suddenly, the mist started to dissolve. Bright light poked through the edges, and then her consciousness was rocketing away from the other figures. Starling awoke with the feel of plastic against her cheek. She sat up, fighting the nausea that rose in her stomach, and appraised her situation. She was sitting on astroturf, vividly green and completely fake. Her right ankle was cuffed to a metal pipe that rose out of the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. She was clothed, but her pockets were empty, her piece missing. The room she was in was narrow, about six feet across, but nearly fifteen feet long, with Starling restrained at one end and a heavy door at the other. Bright fluorescents shone down, embedded in the ceiling and shielded by metal cages.
Other than the pipe, the cuffs, the turf, and Starling herself, the room was completely empty.
One of the fluorescents flickered, then came on a little brighter, and Starling realized that they had just recently turned on. Which was why she had woken, she was sure. Which probably meant something was about to happen. Still fighting dizziness, she pushed herself into a standing position and leaned against the unfinished cement wall, feeling the rough surface grit against her palms. She shook her head, gently, trying to clear the miasma of the dreams she had been having. She couldn't quite remember them...
There was a sliding noise at the door as a bolt was thrown back, and then the door swung out. In the doorway stood a man wearing a clown mask. Starling noted the height and build. It could be Birman, although this figure was a little chunkier than Birman's slim frame. Not that that meant anything. Starling barely had time to wonder what the purpose of the mask was before the man (presumably) stepped into the room.
"Clarice Starling." The voice was masked as well by some sort of voice altering device, making the sound come out high-pitched, reedy. "You are an Eff. Bee. Eye agent." The letters were deliberate, spaced with pauses. Starling hesitated just a moment to confirm that he was waiting for a response, then nodded slightly, trying to get a glimpse of the space beyond the door. Nothing but dim yellow light. She shifted her attention back to the clown.
"Good little girls respond with words unless they're mute. You're not mute, are you, Clarice Starling? And remember that even clowns deserve respect."
"No...sir, I'm not mute." The mask and distorter seemed clear attempts to prevent Starling from identifying her captor. But why? Because it was Birman and he didn't want Starling to know it was him? In normal circumstances, that could point to the abduction being temporary, but that seemed strongly unlikely.
"Excellent, Clarice Starling. Excellent. Shows good upbringing. I value that." The man took several slow steps toward her, but was still at least ten feet away, well outside any reach she could have attempted even if she were feeling on top of her game. He had responded positively to the respectful address, so Starling decided to risk a question. His starting with communication likely pointed to an ego that would respond to further conversation.
"Why am I here, sir?" Why else a mask? Fear? Intimidation? His vocal patterns didn't seem calculated to scare. No sudden yelling--so far. No overt threats.
"Because, Clarice Starling, you've been naughty, playing the peeping tom. Sitting in your nest with your field glasses and your curiosity, watching that house. Who were you watching for, I wonder? Who is the Eff. Bee. Eye looking for in my neck of the woods?" So perhaps not Birman, after all. Birman would be very aware of his suspect status. This would help explain the mask, too. Killing an FBI agent would draw heat, so whoever this was might be sounding her out to determine whether he was under scrutiny. If they weren't looking for him, he could let her go rather than risk the heat that a dead agent could bring.
Or no, more likely it was the opposite. If this wasn't Birman, then the clown might feel more secure in disposing of Starling as he saw fit, knowing that the heat would likely go somewhere else. Starling started to formulate a plausible set of vague criteria, something that could provide a response without committing her completely, but then she remembered the dossier that had been in the car with her. He had obviously pulled her from the wreckage. Had he time to pull her documents, too? If so, a lie could be deadly. She decided to play it straight.
"We're tracking a sexual predator, a man by the name of Thomas Birman." She watched as she spoke, though her head still swam in pain and disorientation, and saw the shoulders stiffen.
"Oh. Oh, Clarice Starling. No." The man reached behind his neck and grabbed at the mask, pulling it up and off. The rough face that looked at her in disappointment was weather-worn from years of exposure to the elements, leathery and experienced. His cheeks were sallow and slightly sunken, and sported light salt-and-pepper stubble. The hair was dirty blond, buzz-cut, functional. Nondescript hazel eyes peered at her from somewhat withdrawn sockets.
Thomas Birman, after all.
"I'm not a sexual predator." With the mask had gone the voice distorter, and the baritone now matched what Starling had heard from the surveillance tapes. "I would accept being labeled a predator, yes, but your application of 'sexual' implies things that are only partly true, at best. I'm a modern highwayman of precious commodities--some would say the most precious. A social chameleon. A collector, of sorts. And, at the base of my soul, I'm a hedonist. So I'm a little disappointed by your crass labeling. Matthew 12:36. 'I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak.' Take care not to be too careless with your words, especially now that you have certainty that someone will hold them up to scrutiny. How you conduct yourself in my presence will certainly have bearing on your fate.
And I have such wonderful plans for your fate, Clarice Starling. You see, I have not yet collected my third letter of the alphabet nor my 19th. So...will you be my Clarice, I wonder, or will you be my Starling?"
A long silence hung in the air. Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten. Finally Starling spoke.
"I'm not some specimen to be collected, Mr. Birman. And besides, I would think I'm much too old to appeal to your tastes or--"
"Ah, so proper!" Birman interrupted. "'Mr. Birman', is it? Then I think I'll call you Miss Starling, and we'll dispense with the Clarice for now. I might change my mind later, if the whim so inclines me, but yes, I think we're moving in the right direction, Miss Starling." Casually, he moved over to lean against one of the walls. Still much too far to reach, but closer. A little bit more and Starling might be able to get ahold of him. She wasn't altogether certain how wise such a move would be; her vision was starting to clear, but she still felt horribly disoriented. Even so, if he came within reach, it might be her only chance.
"With that out of the way, we must consider the means. Tell me, Miss Starling: did you have a favorite nursery rhyme growing up? Perhaps a well-loved song?"
"A favorite nursery rhyme? Well..." Starling faltered and put her hand to her head. She started to sway ever so slightly, then a bit more.
"Miss Starling? Are you alright? Oh, I suppose you're still reeling from that nasty vehicular incident. I do apologize for that; horribly uncouth of me." Birman pushed away from the wall and moved toward Starling, arms out as though to steady her. Starling started to fall, then pushed off her unchained foot and launched her body at Birman, leading with an elbow aimed at his face. But she really was still disoriented, and she misjudged the reach of the cuffs. Her elbow caught Birman a glancing blow across the cheek, and he easily dodged the rest, dropping under her arm, then coming up with his arms around her neck in a chokehold. Starling was struck by how incredibly powerful he was, as though iron girders had formed a collar, slowly choking the life out of her. Birman lowered her to the floor and the astroturf blurred, then flared brightly in a brief flash of emerald, then faded completely.
**********
Starling was looking down at the floorplan of a hospital. It was laid out in intricate detail, even down to doll-sized gurneys, tiny syringes on metal trays the size of postage stamps, bedpans like thimbles. There were even little doll-like doctors and nurses making their rounds, checking on patients. Starling was fascinated and felt content watching them scurry about like insects. There were other figures, too; patients, she supposed. Some of them were familiar faces. Others were familiar...but only because she had seen them in the mist. As she looked, she realized that all the figures from the mist were roaming the halls of this hospital.
A blaring caught her attention, and she watched as several doctors and nurses broke from their offices and nurses stations to dash into a hospital room where a body was thrashing about on a bed. Peering closer, Starling watched as they scrambled in, prepping a defibrillator, checking the body's vitals, working feverishly. She strained to see who was on the bed, but she couldn't quite make it out. She tried to get closer...closer...and then suddenly she was in the midst of the uproar, standing near the head of the bed, doctors and nurses yelling, grimaces on their faces, the smell of death getting stronger. For a moment, disoriented, Starling felt panic rise in her throat, as well, but then she looked at the bed and had to choke off a scream. On the bed was a death's head moth, just like the grisly little insect she had become so familiar with a few years earlier.
But this was no ordinary moth; it was as big as she was. And the wires and tubes connected to it made it clear that this was the patient that the medical staff were trying to save. But after several attempts at the defib and failure of manual efforts to resuscitate, a doctor called out the time. A hushed silence fell over the room, and Starling realized that all the doctors and nurses were staring at her with accusation written plainly on their faces. Starling started to back away toward the door, then sensed a presence over her shoulder. Spinning around, she found that all the phantoms from the mist were back, arranged in several rows between her and the door. Each face held disappointment and anger, and Starling realized that they blamed her for the moth's death.
"It was just a moth!" She tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out, like they were blocked deep in her throat. She stuck her fingers into her throat and gagged as she felt something deep in her pharynx. Gripping it, she pulled it out and found herself holding a moth. She flung it from her, but again felt like something was cutting off her airway. She reached in again and pulled out another moth. Then another. And another. She pulled moths from her mouth until her consciousness caught up with the action and she retched, a vomit of moths pouring from her open mouth. Collapsing on the floor, she spit the last winged insect out and struggled back to her feet on shaky legs.
The hospital room was empty; the phantoms and familiar figures gone. But she could sense that they were near. And they were not happy with her. Danger roamed these hallowed halls of medicine, and Starling would need all her wits about her to survive.
I still haven't caught up yet so any summary of the thread is appreciated, but I should have read the thread by tomorrow.
Feel free to shoot me any outstanding questions. While I'm not really sure what kpaca was doing, I'm in his slot, so I accept responsibility for his actions.
Hey proph, welcome. I'm on vacation and can't give you much of a recap right now. I'll be back Thursday, but I'm keeping up. Rhand claimed in thread right?
Hey proph, welcome. I'm on vacation and can't give you much of a recap right now. I'll be back Thursday, but I'm keeping up. Rhand claimed in thread right?
Hey proph, welcome. I'm on vacation and can't give you much of a recap right now. I'll be back Thursday, but I'm keeping up. Rhand claimed in thread right?
Early game drama was focused on Kpaca and Shinichi town reading and accepting town leans on each other for reasons that weren't really explained.
Wheat Grinder came in with a strong scum read on Vaimes.
QH who is a gimmick from MAL, came in walling and drew some heat before being shuffled off to town lean ville by most.
Roger (who was Astros) came in similarly but garnered a bunch of scum reads (primarily from me) before replacing out for Rhand and flipping town.
Terry and RE had a crazy death spiral back and forth based around RE taking offense at still being Terrys vote when they were 8th in his reads list. Generally thought to not be s/s but opinions divided beyond that.
Shinichi came under a ton of pressure late in the day as did Kpaca.
AG coasted under the radar, but showed a glimmer of towniness late in the day.
And that's not everything but it covers the higights.
I think you were the most suspect (kettle screams the pot should be lynched because of how black it is). And like I said, I wasn't dazzled by shadow's vote either (buried in a wall of spliced posts, his reasoning was "I want to lynch Shinichi/kpaca, and since kpaca already has a wagon:". Like, the biggest "pass the buck" move ever. The ONLY redeeming think there, is that he might have been trying to force kpaca to claim. But I think even that is meeting him more than half way (like, would town need to force anyone to claim who has been posting this little?). I think if I was looking for scum, it's one of you two.
This comes across as very townie to me. Most of his other posting makes me uneasy, so this post could just be an outlier; but my split reads have tended towards being town in the past.
What were you hoping to get from this question?
Questioning my townread of shadowlancer.
Still like WG as town. Like GrapeFruit as town more than I did before.
Like this post from RE a lot. Slight scumlean prior, but this swing him around.
Roger's 223 has a lot of questions, can't really tell what his views are yet.
His next 2 posts do offer some viewpoints. The Roger/Mindreaver interaction does not feel like S/S.
Uncertain about Mindreaver's post, but I can see what Shinichi is getting at and like what he's doing.
Not a fan of his next few posts, though.
From the first half, not a fan of lynching either Shinichi or RE. I could buy either of them as scum, but I feel like whether they are town or scum will become clearer as the game goes on. Roger/Rhand and Kpaca I'm much less certain we'll be able to accurately read.
I haven't gone back over the kpaca wagon yet, but I can see your shadow reasoning.
Since people seem to be misunderstanding my unvote. I voted kpaca in RVS and unvoted him because I was completely uninvolved in his wagon. Having a random vote left on someone while they approach lynching threshold made me uncomfortable.
He uses Wall.
It's Super effective!
But seriously that was the towniest thing AG has done all game. I like his owning up to the weak got even if it's way too late. Not in the town leans yet. Just not willing to CFD there anymore.
Vaimes (1): kpaca
kpaca (1): shadowlancerx
shadowlancerx (2): Quickhoodies, Wheat_Grinder
Rhand (1): Mindreaver
RE1031 (1): TheRealStinkyJoeTerry
AtheistGod (1): RE1031
Shinichi (3): Grapefruit21, Rhand, Vaimes
Not Voting: AtheistGod, Shinichi
Please inform me of any errors.
Deadline is in one hour from this post.
This is an open invitation to pile onto Shinichi. If he's town, mislynching him is a step towards your win condition. If he's your partner, you'll reap some sick towncred. And you probably won't get caught! Whereas a No Lynch will just make the game a drag for everyone.
Thanks,
Vaimes
Who is around?
Then what did you make of his last page?
I thought the deadline was later in the day, hopefully more people trickle in soon
Or the mod could replace him and give us an extension!
you, me, vaimes, AG, and Mind is only 5.
Vaimes (1): kpaca
shadowlancerx (2): Quickhoodies, Wheat_Grinder
Rhand (1): Mindreaver
RE1031 (1): TheRealStinkyJoeTerry
AtheistGod (1): RE1031
Shinichi (4): Grapefruit21, Rhand, Vaimes, shadowlancerx
Not Voting: AtheistGod, Shinichi
kpaca isn't here, WG won't lynch Shinichi, Mindreaver won't, AG won't, and Shinichi won't.
We'd need ALL of [QH, JoeTerry, RE] to switch over, which very likely isn't happening (I can't remember their reads on him, but I doubt they're even gonna show up so whocares.jpg), which means this lynch isn't going through.
Unvote, vote kpaca
choo choo
is there a middle finger emoji or are you all just gonna have to imagine me flipping you off
No one is going to get shot for having accurate reads because 0 wagons have gotten any traction.
glgl?
I know I'm late so I don't know if this'll count. Sorry, I just woke up and I'm really groggy now.
I don't get this one.
I have a decision to make, and I'd like some feedback from peers not in the game, so even though Day is officially over, Night has not yet officially begun.
It is NOT twilight; please stop posting.
(As of 9:07am, MDT)
Vaimes (1): kpaca
shadowlancerx (2): Quickhoodies, Wheat_Grinder
RE1031 (1): TheRealStinkyJoeTerry
AtheistGod (1): RE1031
Shinichi (1): Rhand
kpaca (5): Vaimes, Grapefruit21, AtheistGod, shadowlancerx, Mindreaver
Not Voting: Shinichi
Day 1 has ended in a No Lynch.
Please inform me of any errors.
Night 1 will end 72 hours from now. Please submit your night actions by 2359 MDT on July 3rd.
Flavor will be added as time permits.
It is still Night.
======================================================================
In the mist, figures approached and receded like tides. Some seemed ready to overwhelm Starling and drag her under, others barely registered. Each had its own agenda, one man, a killer she knew in a past life, wanting her to come with him; an old friend telling her to stay where she was, that help was on its way; a total stranger trying to pick a fight. The words they spoke came to Starling out of sync with the lips moving on the phantasms' faces , but all felt tinged with menace. Starling found herself bracing for each interaction with dread and foreboding. Something was going to happen, and she felt it in her heart that it would be something bad.
But then, suddenly, the mist started to dissolve. Bright light poked through the edges, and then her consciousness was rocketing away from the other figures. Starling awoke with the feel of plastic against her cheek. She sat up, fighting the nausea that rose in her stomach, and appraised her situation. She was sitting on astroturf, vividly green and completely fake. Her right ankle was cuffed to a metal pipe that rose out of the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. She was clothed, but her pockets were empty, her piece missing. The room she was in was narrow, about six feet across, but nearly fifteen feet long, with Starling restrained at one end and a heavy door at the other. Bright fluorescents shone down, embedded in the ceiling and shielded by metal cages.
Other than the pipe, the cuffs, the turf, and Starling herself, the room was completely empty.
One of the fluorescents flickered, then came on a little brighter, and Starling realized that they had just recently turned on. Which was why she had woken, she was sure. Which probably meant something was about to happen. Still fighting dizziness, she pushed herself into a standing position and leaned against the unfinished cement wall, feeling the rough surface grit against her palms. She shook her head, gently, trying to clear the miasma of the dreams she had been having. She couldn't quite remember them...
There was a sliding noise at the door as a bolt was thrown back, and then the door swung out. In the doorway stood a man wearing a clown mask. Starling noted the height and build. It could be Birman, although this figure was a little chunkier than Birman's slim frame. Not that that meant anything. Starling barely had time to wonder what the purpose of the mask was before the man (presumably) stepped into the room.
"Clarice Starling." The voice was masked as well by some sort of voice altering device, making the sound come out high-pitched, reedy. "You are an Eff. Bee. Eye agent." The letters were deliberate, spaced with pauses. Starling hesitated just a moment to confirm that he was waiting for a response, then nodded slightly, trying to get a glimpse of the space beyond the door. Nothing but dim yellow light. She shifted her attention back to the clown.
"Good little girls respond with words unless they're mute. You're not mute, are you, Clarice Starling? And remember that even clowns deserve respect."
"No...sir, I'm not mute." The mask and distorter seemed clear attempts to prevent Starling from identifying her captor. But why? Because it was Birman and he didn't want Starling to know it was him? In normal circumstances, that could point to the abduction being temporary, but that seemed strongly unlikely.
"Excellent, Clarice Starling. Excellent. Shows good upbringing. I value that." The man took several slow steps toward her, but was still at least ten feet away, well outside any reach she could have attempted even if she were feeling on top of her game. He had responded positively to the respectful address, so Starling decided to risk a question. His starting with communication likely pointed to an ego that would respond to further conversation.
"Why am I here, sir?" Why else a mask? Fear? Intimidation? His vocal patterns didn't seem calculated to scare. No sudden yelling--so far. No overt threats.
"Because, Clarice Starling, you've been naughty, playing the peeping tom. Sitting in your nest with your field glasses and your curiosity, watching that house. Who were you watching for, I wonder? Who is the Eff. Bee. Eye looking for in my neck of the woods?" So perhaps not Birman, after all. Birman would be very aware of his suspect status. This would help explain the mask, too. Killing an FBI agent would draw heat, so whoever this was might be sounding her out to determine whether he was under scrutiny. If they weren't looking for him, he could let her go rather than risk the heat that a dead agent could bring.
Or no, more likely it was the opposite. If this wasn't Birman, then the clown might feel more secure in disposing of Starling as he saw fit, knowing that the heat would likely go somewhere else. Starling started to formulate a plausible set of vague criteria, something that could provide a response without committing her completely, but then she remembered the dossier that had been in the car with her. He had obviously pulled her from the wreckage. Had he time to pull her documents, too? If so, a lie could be deadly. She decided to play it straight.
"We're tracking a sexual predator, a man by the name of Thomas Birman." She watched as she spoke, though her head still swam in pain and disorientation, and saw the shoulders stiffen.
"Oh. Oh, Clarice Starling. No." The man reached behind his neck and grabbed at the mask, pulling it up and off. The rough face that looked at her in disappointment was weather-worn from years of exposure to the elements, leathery and experienced. His cheeks were sallow and slightly sunken, and sported light salt-and-pepper stubble. The hair was dirty blond, buzz-cut, functional. Nondescript hazel eyes peered at her from somewhat withdrawn sockets.
Thomas Birman, after all.
"I'm not a sexual predator." With the mask had gone the voice distorter, and the baritone now matched what Starling had heard from the surveillance tapes. "I would accept being labeled a predator, yes, but your application of 'sexual' implies things that are only partly true, at best. I'm a modern highwayman of precious commodities--some would say the most precious. A social chameleon. A collector, of sorts. And, at the base of my soul, I'm a hedonist. So I'm a little disappointed by your crass labeling. Matthew 12:36. 'I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak.' Take care not to be too careless with your words, especially now that you have certainty that someone will hold them up to scrutiny. How you conduct yourself in my presence will certainly have bearing on your fate.
And I have such wonderful plans for your fate, Clarice Starling. You see, I have not yet collected my third letter of the alphabet nor my 19th. So...will you be my Clarice, I wonder, or will you be my Starling?"
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Again, it is still Night 1; do not post.
"I'm not some specimen to be collected, Mr. Birman. And besides, I would think I'm much too old to appeal to your tastes or--"
"Ah, so proper!" Birman interrupted. "'Mr. Birman', is it? Then I think I'll call you Miss Starling, and we'll dispense with the Clarice for now. I might change my mind later, if the whim so inclines me, but yes, I think we're moving in the right direction, Miss Starling." Casually, he moved over to lean against one of the walls. Still much too far to reach, but closer. A little bit more and Starling might be able to get ahold of him. She wasn't altogether certain how wise such a move would be; her vision was starting to clear, but she still felt horribly disoriented. Even so, if he came within reach, it might be her only chance.
"With that out of the way, we must consider the means. Tell me, Miss Starling: did you have a favorite nursery rhyme growing up? Perhaps a well-loved song?"
"A favorite nursery rhyme? Well..." Starling faltered and put her hand to her head. She started to sway ever so slightly, then a bit more.
"Miss Starling? Are you alright? Oh, I suppose you're still reeling from that nasty vehicular incident. I do apologize for that; horribly uncouth of me." Birman pushed away from the wall and moved toward Starling, arms out as though to steady her. Starling started to fall, then pushed off her unchained foot and launched her body at Birman, leading with an elbow aimed at his face. But she really was still disoriented, and she misjudged the reach of the cuffs. Her elbow caught Birman a glancing blow across the cheek, and he easily dodged the rest, dropping under her arm, then coming up with his arms around her neck in a chokehold. Starling was struck by how incredibly powerful he was, as though iron girders had formed a collar, slowly choking the life out of her. Birman lowered her to the floor and the astroturf blurred, then flared brightly in a brief flash of emerald, then faded completely.
**********
Starling was looking down at the floorplan of a hospital. It was laid out in intricate detail, even down to doll-sized gurneys, tiny syringes on metal trays the size of postage stamps, bedpans like thimbles. There were even little doll-like doctors and nurses making their rounds, checking on patients. Starling was fascinated and felt content watching them scurry about like insects. There were other figures, too; patients, she supposed. Some of them were familiar faces. Others were familiar...but only because she had seen them in the mist. As she looked, she realized that all the figures from the mist were roaming the halls of this hospital.
A blaring caught her attention, and she watched as several doctors and nurses broke from their offices and nurses stations to dash into a hospital room where a body was thrashing about on a bed. Peering closer, Starling watched as they scrambled in, prepping a defibrillator, checking the body's vitals, working feverishly. She strained to see who was on the bed, but she couldn't quite make it out. She tried to get closer...closer...and then suddenly she was in the midst of the uproar, standing near the head of the bed, doctors and nurses yelling, grimaces on their faces, the smell of death getting stronger. For a moment, disoriented, Starling felt panic rise in her throat, as well, but then she looked at the bed and had to choke off a scream. On the bed was a death's head moth, just like the grisly little insect she had become so familiar with a few years earlier.
But this was no ordinary moth; it was as big as she was. And the wires and tubes connected to it made it clear that this was the patient that the medical staff were trying to save. But after several attempts at the defib and failure of manual efforts to resuscitate, a doctor called out the time. A hushed silence fell over the room, and Starling realized that all the doctors and nurses were staring at her with accusation written plainly on their faces. Starling started to back away toward the door, then sensed a presence over her shoulder. Spinning around, she found that all the phantoms from the mist were back, arranged in several rows between her and the door. Each face held disappointment and anger, and Starling realized that they blamed her for the moth's death.
"It was just a moth!" She tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out, like they were blocked deep in her throat. She stuck her fingers into her throat and gagged as she felt something deep in her pharynx. Gripping it, she pulled it out and found herself holding a moth. She flung it from her, but again felt like something was cutting off her airway. She reached in again and pulled out another moth. Then another. And another. She pulled moths from her mouth until her consciousness caught up with the action and she retched, a vomit of moths pouring from her open mouth. Collapsing on the floor, she spit the last winged insect out and struggled back to her feet on shaky legs.
The hospital room was empty; the phantoms and familiar figures gone. But she could sense that they were near. And they were not happy with her. Danger roamed these hallowed halls of medicine, and Starling would need all her wits about her to survive.
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Rhand has been killed. He was
Day 2 has started. With 11 alive, it's 6 to lynch.
Deadline is set for Friday, July 21st, at 9am MDT.
Please remember to check your PMs before posting in the thread, and let me know if there are any questions.
I still haven't caught up yet so any summary of the thread is appreciated, but I should have read the thread by tomorrow.
Feel free to shoot me any outstanding questions. While I'm not really sure what kpaca was doing, I'm in his slot, so I accept responsibility for his actions.
Soft claimed. Anyone know what a deathguard is?
And yeah V/LA for today and tomorrow for me too.
Early game drama was focused on Kpaca and Shinichi town reading and accepting town leans on each other for reasons that weren't really explained.
Wheat Grinder came in with a strong scum read on Vaimes.
QH who is a gimmick from MAL, came in walling and drew some heat before being shuffled off to town lean ville by most.
Roger (who was Astros) came in similarly but garnered a bunch of scum reads (primarily from me) before replacing out for Rhand and flipping town.
Terry and RE had a crazy death spiral back and forth based around RE taking offense at still being Terrys vote when they were 8th in his reads list. Generally thought to not be s/s but opinions divided beyond that.
Shinichi came under a ton of pressure late in the day as did Kpaca.
AG coasted under the radar, but showed a glimmer of towniness late in the day.
And that's not everything but it covers the higights.
For all the same reasons as yesterday.
Ohhh and Proph we no lynched because half the game lurked or said everything could either be town or scum and didn't take a stand.
JT - Kind of unsure how to answer your question given that I literally have not read much of this game yet.
I will begin to catch up now, however. Expect a large-ish post later in the day summing up my reads.