So it’s come to this. You like playing mafia. You love playing mafia. Or, you’re indifferent to playing mafia but for some reason, you keep signing up because it’s bleeding addictive. Now, you find yourself without a game to play, but you’re too busy IRL. Or, you’ve signed up to way too many games, and you’re absolutely sure you won’t have time to play in this one as well.
Yeah, I know. I understand.
But you know what? You’re going to sign up for this one anyway. Why? Because you know that you’ll get killed off in that other game or three, or you’ll suddenly come down with debilitating phlebitis and won’t be able to do anything but lay in bed and play mafia games, and your schedule will suddenly open up. Here’s hoping!
Or you’ll post that you’re unable to play, just to make me look silly. HOW DARE YOU, SIR OR MADAM! :mad:
I’ve heard it all before. “My interwebs aren’t working, the tubes are clogged! I have to wash my hair that month! I’m going through severe chest pains and will likely be dead shortly or at the very least, quite grumpy!” Blah blah blah. :rolleyes:
Yes, yes, I know. But I also know that somewhere out there in this great big marble there’s a group of insane mafia-addicted freaks who don’t care about how many other mafias they’re in, or how clogged are thy tubes. Huddled in the dark, away from the evil sunlight, hovering over the faint glow of their computer screens, they lurk… buried under empty soda cans and bags of Doritos they wait… oblivious to the outside world, or whatever television programming there might be. They bravely forgo normal and healthy relationships with actual sentient beings, and return to the forgotten corners of the internet machine, and like advertising spam bots, post incessantly and in pseudo-human fashion, all for the sake of mafia. A game where you get nothing if you win, and the purpose of the game is to lie to your friends and murder them good and dead, and keep murdering them until they stop twitching or the chainsaw runs out of gasoline. :eek:
This is how we spend our free time, and it does NOT make us sociopaths, your honor. They were **all **totally dead when I found them. I was clipping my toenails the whole time they were being butchered, up to and including the part where I hid the murder weapon underneath the cement floor of my basement. The crime is therefore unsolvable!
I propose that until the true culprits are found, I write a book, sort of a hypothetical “if I did do it”, where I talk about how I did it, where I did it, who I did it to, and where I hid the bodies, in graphic detail. And the rest of you can sign up to my mafia game.
Rules and story information will come later, if the game gets enough players. If not, I will quietly bury this thread in the backyard. I have to move the bodies anyway, so it kills two birds with one shovel.
Sign up already. I can host a game with 25 players or more, that would be enough to be interesting. Or you can abandon me and let it gnaw on your conscience for all eternity.