that's not the sort of alpaca-lined diminished chord we drape ourselves in when we find the meringue pasteles have whittled themselves into the same non-existence enjoyed (in one sense) by Jesuit fathers and enjoyed (in two more) by olives and persimmons dropped from summer-nestled trees planted by the folly of several dulce-imbued fairies, the sort one stumbles upon happenstantially when the lifespan of hummingbirds comes under question by the same ornothologists that broke exactly bone each upon falling from the perch at the end of the ice cream vendor onto the end of September, a sentiment reveled in by calicos who, through no fault of the color burnt siena, skipped over puddles that were less interesting than appeared at first blush, and into the uncertainty of the far recessed corner of piso tercero on which precisely three-and-a-half meters of sound echoes throughout the otherwise acoustically deadened chamber -- to which I should pause momentarily and remind the reader that cotton candy is only parceled out in increments of 50 Hz, which comes as a surprise to many such candies -- I'll resume at the drop of a cat in a different; most likely, a desaturated play on November which most find a touch drab for activities like stewing cabbage, to which you might say "ah, I've never known her to spend time so trivially as all that!" and that point I would eagerly affirm in any instance but the debut of a quintet that you personally didn't consider on the merit of certain aesthetic qualms shared by clavichords and llamas, which often can't agree on much but the start of races to grow up in the span of hailing a taxi with cream-colores scarves signaling a desire to go elsewhere, a point I should emphasize for only as long as it takes to italicize trivialities on the level of "X's dream is Y's reality; Y's dream is X's reality," itself a reality akin to the diurnal woes of certain rain-placed inquiries into the nature of arpeggios and other slights-of-hand that instantiate the likes of vanishing calicos into a reality that I dare say thr calicos themselves would consider a dream (a point I must stress is distinct from the one above in the sense that pictoral representations of everyday objects trap the souls of pigeons in the mundane day-to-day of taking a stroll and being compelled to do so for eternity by the machinations of certain synth-laced bitstreams which call into question the validity of certain tautologies and meta-tautologies (which isn't something originally thought to bear consideration by many a snow owl, but which was revised to fit a new definition of civil engineering and city planning in which the avoidance of obstacles to "successful" navigation is rewarded with the same vernal aesthetic we cast porcelain in, without ignoring the effect of lighters snuffed out by electric noise inadequately accounted for (I should note, to allay confusion, that camera shops are the sort of place one smiles or commits murder or eats caramel-filled sweets in, a point missed by many a bag filled with calico kittens, which ignores the tendency of bags filled with calico kittens to spontaneously combust when it starts raining in front of the far awning, much to the dismay of bags filled with calico kittens, which would otherwise find it in their best interest to not be in bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico kittens bags filled with calico bags kittens filled with calico bags filled kittens calico bags calico filled calico bags with kittens with kittens filled calico bags filled calico kittens bags kittened bags calicod with bagged kittenly bags calico bags filled calicoly filled kittens bagged with baggedly filled calicos kittens bagged calicoly filled kittened calico kittens kittened kittenedly with filled bags kittenedly calicod with calico kittens
You had me duped in Majora's Mask and DCIII is a good Mafia player in general. It's gut + history + a small /barn.
As for your other question, I answered that in #2096.
You say you expected us to /barn your reads and follow you on attacks -- maybe that's scum trying to sweep a discrepancy under the rug, maybe that's Manny Being Manny, whatever. There are still a few problems with that:
- You attacked three different players in the span of a Day, and now you're saying you expected at least three players dead and flipped by D4 (i.e. now). I can't reconcile how you expected your love spreading on those three to result in flips by now. Even by normal Mafia standards we would only have two lynches between D2 and D4.
- I also can't see how you couldn't see what the numbers were telling us on D2 (that we weren't getting flips unless we concentrated attacks on 1 player, not the 3 you were attacking). A lot of us didn't see it on D1, but it the writing was on the wall D2. Your mindset then suggests that you were in full control, but now that you're in semi-panic mode it suggests that you were just plain ignorant on D2 -- if town. Why/how is that?
May have more time this week but probably not until I get stateside.
I have no recollection of why I gave Iso a pass for his "spread the love" insistence, which as Rhand points out reads worse in light of his lament in #2084. Iso, you couldn't follow my reasoning that this is exactly what would happen if we didn't coordinate attacks?
@Iso
When Proph says "TMCT is making me wary" it reads genuine and makes sense coming from his mouth. But you? Where does that mindset even come from?
are you able to help, though?
by the bye, I ____
when there aren't any tercero piso esquinas left I need to post like this
You say you expected us to /barn your reads and follow you on attacks -- maybe that's scum trying to sweep a discrepancy under the rug, maybe that's Manny Being Manny, whatever. There are still a few problems with that:
- You attacked three different players in the span of a Day, and now you're saying you expected at least three players dead and flipped by D4 (i.e. now). I can't reconcile how you expected your love spreading on those three to result in flips by now. Even by normal Mafia standards we would only have two lynches between D2 and D4.
- I also can't see how you couldn't see what the numbers were telling us on D2 (that we weren't getting flips unless we concentrated attacks on 1 player, not the 3 you were attacking). A lot of us didn't see it on D1, but it the writing was on the wall D2. Your mindset then suggests that you were in full control, but now that you're in semi-panic mode it suggests that you were just plain ignorant on D2 -- if town. Why/how is that?
I have no recollection of why I gave Iso a pass for his "spread the love" insistence, which as Rhand points out reads worse in light of his lament in #2084. Iso, you couldn't follow my reasoning that this is exactly what would happen if we didn't coordinate attacks?
@Iso
When Proph says "TMCT is making me wary" it reads genuine and makes sense coming from his mouth. But you? Where does that mindset even come from?