The Syndicate

Chelsea couldn't help but slow down as they ran across the warehouse floor. She looked up in bewilderment at an enormous array of LED screens wrapping around the three stories of what she had believed to be the Trump Tower penthouse. There were weather machines as well, to complete the ruse as wind and precipitation warranted it. The screens came back to life, showing the dazzling New York nighttime skyline. Lights switched on inside the phony penthouse. It was all too surreal.

"Chelsea," Sidney shouted from the other side of the warehouse, "get moving before they realize we're out!"

It was all the motivation she needed. She quickly caught up to Sidney and they left the main warehouse.

Weapons drawn, they moved down dingy hallways. They could smell the kitchen where their meals had been prepared. Sidney held his free hand up as they came to a T-junction. He motioned to Chelsea and they took position opposite each other. On his cue, they both took a step out into the hallway, Sidney taking a knee to go low and Chelsea remaining upright to go high. Nobody was in the hallway in either direction.

"Look," she said, motioning down Sidney's end of the hallway. A small pool of light was on the floor, showing the presence of a door or window just down the hall.

"That's our ticket out of here," Sidney said.

At the end of the hallway, they discovered the light was brighter than they thought. The doorway was blocked, but there were no guards. They removed enough of the blockade to force the door open wide enough to slip out and into morning daylight and frosty air. Without coats, the cold tightened them up and slowed them down just a bit before adrenaline took over again.

With no one else in sight, the ran up a narrow alley, looking for a better route away from their former prison. They saw other warehouses and industrial buildings, most looking aged at best and dilapidated at worst.

"Listen," Sidney said. In the stillness of the morning they could here both a low rumbling and the high squeal of metal on metal. "Trains, and quite a few of them. This way!"

Chelsea followed Sidney up another alley. As they approached a proper road, they saw shabby apartment buildings and a few outdated automobiles.

"To the left," Sidney said. "Try not to look too desperate. We're out in the open now until we can find that transit hub."

Desperation was hard to hold back as alarms rang out behind them. They marched up to another T-junction and tried to act naturally as a car drove by.

"Over there," Sidney said, nodding across the street. "By the sound of it, that walking path should lead us right to it."

Not exactly. The path itself, they found led over top a massive hub of tracks. They had to climb over a fence and slide down a hill to reach the rail yard. A mixture of freight and transit locomotives were in various states of rest and movement.

"Where in God's name are we?" Chelsea asked, out of breath.

"The Cyrillic doesn't give it away? Look there," Sidney said, pointing to a flag. "White, blue, and red horizontal bars. My dear, we've been in Russia this whole time. One guess as to who set Barron up with his little house of horrors."

"Now what?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious," Sidney replied as he looked back and forth through the rail yard. He saw one that struck his fancy and motioned for Chelsea to follow him. "We've got a train to catch." He slid a door open enough for them to climb in.

"Why this one?" she asked.

"Because it's heading west. If we're in Russia, there's nothing for us if we head east but China if we're lucky and Siberian tundra if we're not."

"I wonder where this train is heading to," Chelsea said.

"We'll find out soon enough," Sidney said. "Regardless, it's a step closer to home. We've got to get back and stop the Trumps from taking over America."

Almost on cue, they heard the squeak of the service elevator opening. They couldn't tell how many people stepped out, but several sets of footfalls moved up the hallway toward them.

"We only get one chance at this," Sidney whispered. "Take out the first person you come to and check them for a sidearm. Stay low after that so we don't shoot each other."

"But Sidney," Chelsea whispered, but Sidney raised his hand, signaling for both silence and preparation to act.

They pressed their hands against the door and made ready to slide it aside. The sound of voices had receded further up the hallway, but they heard a lone set of footsteps coming toward them. Everyone took in a deep breath as the footsteps began to pass their room.

Sidney's hand dropped. The door slid open. Chelsea drove her head into the guard's midsection and took him to the ground. After a quick scan for any others, Sidney lunged at the guard as well. He kicked the man's temple with all his might, crouched down, and snapped his neck.

Chelsea came away with a modest pistol and an extra magazine of ammo.

"Save your bullets unless it's absolutely necessary," Sidney cautioned. Chelsea nodded in compliance.

The nearest of Sidney's devices had been in the his own room, but the door was still shut. They moved swiftly but silently to the dining room first. The den was too big to gain an advantage, and they needed another gun quickly before making for the service elevator.

Sure enough, a guard had taken a sloppy position while monitoring a service technician's work. Sidney wrapped his hands around the man's head from behind, pushed on the back of the guard's left knee to destabilize him, and slammed his head into the corner of the marble counter with a moist thud. Chelsea pistol-whipped the technician, and they assessed the tools at their disposal.

"Do we change into their uniforms?" she asked.

"Not enough time," Sidney said, checking his newly-acquired pistol's clip. "The elevator. Let's move."

They took out one more guard on the way to the elevator and left anyone else in the penthouse to discover their absence and carnage on their own. They pulled the elevator door shut and Sidney pressed the button for the lowest floor. Chelsea leaned back and sighed in relief.

"Don't get comfortable my dear," Sidney cautioned. "This won't take long."

"We're in the penthouse, Sidney," she said. "It's going to be a long ride down."

At that moment, as if to mock her confidence, the elevator came to a rest. Fear flashed in Chelsea's eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"This isn't Trump Tower," Sidney shot back.

"Then where are we?"

"I don't know," Sidney said as the door started to open, "but we're going to find out soon enough. Cover me!"

Chelsea Clinton was sick of hearing about Donald Trump Jr.'s big night on Tuesday. He won five states to Mitt Romney's one. The other candidates were scrambling to decide whether it was best to drop out and throw their support to Romney or hang on for one or two statement victories. If she could turn the TV sets off, she would have. But no, this was Barron's way of gloating and rubbing her powerlessness in her face.

She sobbed as she walked down the hallway to her room. When she paused to collect herself, she heard the door next to her unlock and slide open.

"Hello there," Sidney said and threw a small but heavy bag into her arms. "Hold these for a minute and follow me. It's time to turn the tables." He walked right past her with so much conviction that Chelsea stood stunned still in the middle of the hallway. "Well don't just stand there," he chastised. "They're going to know something is up too soon if we don't act fast."

Chelsea were unsure what to make of Sidney's determination, but s followed him anyway.

"Open that up and give me one," he said. Out of the bag came a strange looking metal device.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"No time to explain," Sidney said. "We've only got a few minutes before security catches on to us and shuts us down. I'm pretty sure we all die if that happens."

Sidney plugged the device into one of the kitchen outlets and flipped a switch. It started humming.

"To the den," Sidney barked.

"Who's going to kill us?" Chelsea asked.

"The guards, of course!"

"Why?"

"Wake up! Do you really think little Trump is going to let us live? He's hellbent on revenge. What happens when he grows bored with us or if his brother loses the election? It's lights out for us, that's what."

After plugging four more of the odd devices into various outlets throughout the penthouse, Sidney strolled back to his room. He smiled at her.

"Now we wait."

"What happens now?" she asked as the droning hum grew louder.

"If everything goes according to plan, we create another blackout."

Sure enough, Sidney's contraptions worked. The humming grew louder and louder, until it was almost unbearable. Then a shower of sparks erupted from each one, followed by a series of booming noises within the walls and floor. No sooner did the lights go out and the skyline disappeared once again, Sidney was on his feet.

"Move!" he shouted. "Into Hillary's room!"

Through the dark, they scrambled, almost tripping over each other's anxious footfalls.

"Ten more seconds!" Sidney shouted. "Don't block the door or this will all be for nothing."

As they piled into Hillary's room, a familiar groaning sound was heard. The emergency window covers slid down into place, the blast doors sealed the major rooms, and the bedroom doors all slid shut. The sound of the locking mechanisms engaging flowed up the hallway and past them.

"Don't touch the door yet" Sidney whispered.

"What's going on, Sidney?" she asked.

"It's a lockdown," he explained, "but not like the normal ones. I just took out the power; hopefully for a long while. Only non-electrical systems are working right now. It's only happened three other times while I've been here. Friends, we're getting out of here."

"What are you talking about? The doors are locked."

"Not this one," Sidney said. "I tested it the other night. The night votes disable the locking mechanism completely. It's a glitch that little shit didn't think through. Emergency lockdown still relies on the main locking system."

"Well then why don't we take position out in the hallway?"

"Because there are weight sensors in the hallway floor."

"How do you know there aren't any in here and we're all just sitting ducks now?"

"Because I tested it out the other night during the blackout. If there were weight sensors in our room floors, then they would have known that I was out of place and they'd have come looking for me. In five minutes, a crew will come up here to restock and also to sort out the problem. When the supply elevator door opens, they'll come up this hallway first. That's when we jump them and make our escape."

"Are you sure about this?" Chelsea asked.

"I've been studying the resupply patterns for two goddamn years," Sidney said. "I think I know what I am talking about. Now get down."

They waited in silence...

Thank you for playing everyone. As always, it was a strange and exciting trip.

CHARACTER ROLES:
112 = Chelsea Clinton
DrWilgy = Wes Boyd
Dyslexicon = Sidney Blumenthal
Epi = Debbie Wasserman Schultz
Funnygurl = Lawrence O'Donnell
Jack = David Koch
Long Con = Ted Cruz
M Plus 7 = Pamela Brown
Mac = Shaun Donovan
NANOOK = Hillary Clinton
Scirrus = Bill Clinton
Sloonei = Charles Koch
Soneji = Jeb Bush
Sprityo/Juliets = Arnold Schwarzenegger
Tony/nova = Glenn Beck



MAFIA TEAM:
112 - Chelsea Clinton
Sloonei - Charles Koch
Soneji - Jeb Bush



THIRD PARTY:
Dyslexicon - Sidney Blumenthal



POWER ROLES:
Dyslexicon = THE KEYMASTER
Soneji = THE PARLIAMENTARIAN
Tony/nova = THE SUPERDELEGATE



POWER DESCRIPTION: The Parliamentarian

You are part of the mafia team. Each day, you will be able to set a restriction on night post activity. You may limit all players to anywhere between ten and twenty posts for the night phase. You may only use each limit level, ten through twenty, once all game. Players who violate the night phase posting limit will be stripped of their vote the following day phase. You must submit your posting limit request before the end of the day phase.

POWER DESCRIPTION: The Superdelegate

You are a civvie power role. Each night, you may select two players. The following day phase, their vote values will be increased. You may increase one players vote value by a magnitude of one half, making their vote worth one and one-half vote. The other player will see their vote value doubled. You get to choose which player receives which vote value increase. You may not enhance the vote value of any player for a second time until all living players have had their vote values increased. You may not increase your own vote value until all other living players have had their vote value increased.

POWER DESCRIPTION: The Keymaster

Your role is an independent third party. In this game, each player has been assigned a room number. You only know your room number, and you are the only player in the game that knows which room number has been assigned to them. Your wincon is to get three players locked inside their rooms at the same time. Each night you may attempt to lock a player of your choice inside their room. If their room has already been unlocked by the night poll, then you will not be able to lock their door for the remainder of the game. If their room has not been unlocked yet, then they will be locked inside their room until one of three things happens.

If their door is unlocked by the night poll, then they will rejoin the game. If you are lynched or nightkilled, it will trigger a release of poison gas in their room, killing them. If you are able to lock three people inside their rooms, then poison gas will be released in each of those rooms, killing those three players and fulfilling your wincon. If your door remains lockable at this time, then you will be able to lock yourself inside, marking your exit from the game. If your door has been unlocked by the night poll, then you must remain in the game, exposed as the Keymaster. If this occurs, then you will be able to attempt locking one person in their room each night.

Locking someone in their room will prevent them from being killed by the mafia, as well as having any night power used on or against them. They will also be removed from the lynch poll for the duration of their stay inside their room. Players locked inside their room will be able to post for the first twenty-four hours of the day phase and for the first twelve hours of the night phase. Players locked in their room will be able to cast their vote during the first twenty-four hours of the day phase.

You cannot be lynched on Day One, and you cannot be killed by the mafia until you have either contributed to the lynching of a member of the mafia or until you have locked up a member of the mafia. You will not be told if you have locked up a member of the mafia.

DOOR NUMBER ASSIGNMENTS:
Door 1 = Funnygurl
Door 2 = Mac
Door 3 = Tony/Nova
Door 4 = Dyslexicon
Door 5 = NANOOK (unlocked)
Door 6 = Sloonei
Door 7 = Long Con
Door 8 = Jack
Door 9 = Scirrus
Door 10 = 112
Door 11 = Epi
Door 12 = Sprityo/Julets (unlocked)
Door 13 = DrWilgy
Door 14 = M Plus 7
Door 15 = Soneji



LETTER ASSINGMENTS:
Door 1 R, X
Door 2 N
Door 3 F, U
Door 4 Q, T
Door 5 L
Door 6 H, V
Door 7 I
Door 8 S, W
Door 9 A
Door 10 J, O
Door 11 E, Z
Door 12 C, K
Door 13 D, P
Door 14 G, M
Door 15 B, Y

This time things were different. Rather than counting the votes before eating, Chelsea, Glenn, and Hillary were instructed to vote but then eat. It was the most awkward dinner in the penthouse since Glenn showed up a few months back. Even then, the others had developed a rapport with each other. Even in a room full of political rivals, this torture show proved that civility and empathy could endure even in the most awful of conditions. If not for the events of the last week, reminiscing on it could be almost heartwarming.

But this was no place for the touchy-feely. Someone had to die after this meal, and the anticipation made yet an otherwise gourmet affair feel like a lousy fast food run all the way through. There was no discussion. There was no speculation on the upcoming primaries. There was nothing remotely close to touchy-feely.

The final three exchanged nervous glances as their eating grew more erratic. When the silverware wasn't clinking on the china, they could hear the taunting tick-tock of the clock. It was cruel, and Barron was sure to be enjoying every minute of it.

*tick*


*clink*


*tock*


*chew*


*tick*


*clink*


*tock*


*chew*


*tick*


*clink*


*tock*


*chew*

Hillary let out a sigh, drawing the nervous stares of the other two. She raised her hands slightly, as if to apologize for breaking the decorum of the moment.

*tick*


*clink*


*tock*


*chew*


*tick*


*clink*


*tock*


*chew*

When the meal was done, they rose from their seats and moved over to the vote box. It didn't take long to lay out the votes and seal their fate.

"I'm sorry," Glenn said, "but I hope it's you."

Hillary walked out into the hallway, where most of the others had been dispatched. She tried to carry herself with as much dignity as possible.

Tears filled Chelsea's eyes as she watched her mother take her final steps.

Hillary turned to face them. Her bracelets hummed and turned red. The others sighed. Then the bracelets started flashing. Hillary saw numbers counting down on them. That couldn't possibly be good.

"Who's ready to go out with a bang?" Barron's voice said, piercing the silence of the moment.

The blast doors started to come down as the countdown concluded. The bracelets detonated, the shockwave of them tearing the former president and First Lady's torso in two.

"Dammit," Glenn groaned as the blast doors closed the rest of the way. "All this time it was-"

But he never finished his last sentence. Chelsea struck him over the head with a large stock pot. Glenn fell to the floor and Chelsea made sure she finished the job.

When it was all finished, she slid to the floor and sobbed. She hadn't wanted to kill these people, but she the brainwashing made it impossible to resist.

"Thank you," Barron said. "Now you get to enjoy a solitary life while my brother and family return to prominence. Just imagine- if we can convince the entire world that you and your former associates are all dead, who can possibly stand in our way? Political rivals? Supreme Court justices? Foreign heads of state? No. We are unstoppable. We are Trumps. Thank you for your service."

[mention]112[/mention]
[mention]NANOOKTHEGREATANDFEARSOME[/mention]
[mention]TonyStarkPrime[/mention]

I'm locking the thread until 10:00.

"So," Glenn said as he sat down at the table, "it's down to us three, is it?"

"So it is," Hillary replied. She took a sip of her morning coffee.

"I feel outnumbered in more ways than one right now," Glenn said. "How do I know this will be a fair vote?"

"Because it's not about party or family right now," Chelsea said. "One of you two is the last killer."

"You mean you two," Hillary corrected.

"The way I see it, it's down to you two," Glenn replied.

"Well then," Chelsea said, "let's deliberate."

And deliberate they did. They didn't even notice the blast doors slide shut so the staff could clean up Shaun's body, which had been bludgeoned to a pulp by the now-unnecessary fourth chair from the dining room.

There was a mix of trepidation, hope, and overconfidence in the air all at once. As the remaining tenants stepped into the dining room and saw just four place settings, they remembered those that had died in their rooms earlier in the day. They had been trapped like rats, isolated from the sorrowful and compassionate looks of their peers. If nothing else, it was comforting to know that none of them would suffer a similar fate.

Too bad one of them was in for a pretty hellish fate that would make poison gas look preferable.

It didn't take long to place the votes into the box. This time, at long last, they counted them together. After surviving all this, there was almost a sense of solidarity weaving its way between the fits of paranoia.

"Take a seat," Barron's voice echoed over the penthouse speakers. "Hillary, you ought to get a kick out of this. After all, she ruined your inauguration."

"No," Hillary whispered, "she didn't. I ruined it on my own."

As the four dinner guests sat down, their bracelets and anklets once again bound them fast to the metal chairs.

"So," Pamela said, "I guess this is the part where I walk out into the hallway and die?"

"Not exactly," Barron's voice laughed.

Pamela's bracelets hummed and suddenly grew heavy. The magnets within activated so quickly that she face-planted onto the floor. With no way to counter the magnets that spread her arms wide apart, she broke her nose on impact. Stunned and concussed, she hardly recognized that the magnets had switched off. She rolled off her stomach and sat up. Blood streamed from her nose.

Before she could try to stand up, the magnets engaged again, this time slamming her flat on her back. Her skull made a sickening smacking sound on the floor, but all cranial bones were intact. The magnets started stretching her into a spread-eagle position, and continued to stretch beyond it. Pamela cried out in pain as the sinews of her shoulder and hip joints burned with pain.

When one of her shoulders finally dislocated, she let out a gasp. As she inhaled to scream, her hip ligaments tore. Despite her lungs being full of air, all she could let out was a mousey squeak. She had never known pain like this. She came to know worse when the other shoulder and hip gave way simultaneously.

As she balanced on the edge of unconsciousness, she felt the bracelets and anklets release from her arms and legs. The others watched in horror as they split in half, reconnected and rolled toward her head. Unable to resist, Pamela felt the bracelets and anklets roll onto her chest and reassemble around her neck. It didn't take the newly formed ring to choke the life out of her.

Sidney Blumenthal enjoyed his breakfast with a vengeance. You never know when your last meal might come, and this was certainly going to be his last lavish meal for a good long while.

"I don't get it," Glenn said. "Why didn't anyone die last night?"

"Maybe it had something to do with the early morning power outage," Pamela replied.

"Speaking of that," Hillary said, "did anyone notice something strange with that power outage?"

"I didn't wake up until the windows slammed shut," Ted said through the intercom. "Did I miss something?"

"Well," Hillary started, "I don't know how to explain this without sounding crazy, but-"

Barron's voice cut her off.

"Good morning! Congratulations are in order."

"Congratulations?" Chelsea asked. "What does that mean?"

"Last night was a success, and a reward is in order."

"Last night?" Shaun pondered. "Reward? Oh! Does he mean this cat and mouse game is over?"

Excitement filled the room, but Barron was quick to quash it.

"The game goes on for all of you around the table except for one. Congratulations, Sidney. You met your win condition. Now you may reap your reward."

"Sidney," Jeb asked through the intercom, "what does that mean?"

"It means," Sidney said, getting up from the table, "that it's time for me to be going."

"What?" several people asked. But it was too late, Sidney bolted down the hallway. The others heard him laughing as we went. They heard a door slide open and shut again. Then there was a different kind of locking sound with his door.

"I've got a very bad feeling about this," Lawrence said through his intercom.

A knocking sound traveled through the walls and approached the hallway to their rooms.

"Hey!" Ted shouted. "What's going on? There's gas coming through the vents!"

"Let me out of here!" Jeb coughed.

Lawrence pounded on his door to no avail.

The others got up from the table and searched for a way to open the doors. The intercoms had all been switched on, allowing them to hear the suffocating gags and chokes as poison gas overwhelmed The Keymaster's victims.

Those in the hallway apologized to the dying trio. They promised to avenge them, somehow.

Hillary Clinton was waking up when she heard footsteps in the hall heading in her direction. She hadn't been able to sleep much after witnessing her husband's gruesome end. The pre-dawn light was peaceful, but the sound of someone approaching brought the jitters back hard.

The footfalls paused nearby. Hillary heard a click and a muffled laugh. Then the lights went out. Not just the lights in her room- the entire outside world vanished into a see of flat blackness.

"What the hell?" she asked.

Suddenly her door flew open and a man jumped inside. His head darted up in her direction and he pressed his index finger to his mouth. A few seconds later a groaning sound came from the walls and her door slid back shut. The sounds of door locks licking raced up the hall. The metal window guards slid down into place.

"Sidney?" she asked at last.

"Shh," he whispered.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shh!"

He put his ear up to the door. Hillary moved closer and listened as well. Minutes went by with nothing, but then she thought she heard footsteps in the hallway once more. But how could that be? After a few minutes of hearing footfalls and the occasional indistinguishable voice in the hall, the penthouse was silent again.

Hillary couldn't help but shout when the lights switched back on and the window guards slid back up. New York City was there again.

"Sidney," she said, "did I really just see the skyline disappear and reappear?"

"Hang in there," he said with a wink. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

He slid her door open and took off down the hall.

"How do you like that now, Glenn?" Sidney chortled.

"The fact that I'm the only Republican alive and not locked up right now or the fact that our president is urging states to cancel their primaries over the virus?" he replied.

"Come now, Glenn," Chelsea said, pouring the night's wine. "President Vilsack is only asking for governors to postpone the primaries, not cancel them. You're being unfair."

"Although now that you mention it," Bill teased, "we could all just turn on you right now and save Barron the trouble of making us vote."

"Not on your life!" roared a voice through the intercom. "Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what they are going to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote."

"Thanks for the Ben Franklin quote, Ted," Lawrence said, "but our captor has done an expert job of keeping weapons from us."

"The killers sure have found ways to improvise though," Hillary chimed in. A collective shudder acknowledged this sad truth.

"Let's vote and get this over with," Jeb said through his intercom, "comedy hour starts soon and I'd like to have a full belly when it starts."

"What does he mean by that?" Shaun asked.

"FoxNews is covering the Don Jr. rally tonight at seven," Pamela said.

"Indeed," Glenn said. "Now, in order to keep things fair, this conservative lamb is willing to count the votes tonight."

"I can help you with that," Pamela said, carrying the box over to the counter.

As per usual, the votes were laid out on the counter and grouped into neat rows to make it clear who received the most votes.

"Oh God," Pamela uttered, as she looked up. "Mr. President, I'm so sorry."

"Everyone but Bill Clinton please sit down," a voice came from everywhere at once. It was Barron himself. "Bill, step into the hallway. I have a special treat for all of you tonight."

Once seven seats were occupied, their bracelets hummed and snapped to the arms of the chairs. The anklets drew their legs fast to the chair legs.

"Magnets," Sidney said. "Clever."

"Silence!" roared the voice.

Bill's bracelets and anklets began to glow and hum. Light swirled across the face of each of them. The buzzing and light increased in intensity, ramping up the tension and, dare I say excitement, for how this all would go down.

All at once, the sound and light stopped.

Bill's accessories changed color to the same brilliant green that shown on David Koch's bracelets just days before.

"You chose poorly," Barron laughed.

With that, a high whistling sound burst from the bracelets, followed by a sickening cutting noise. Before their eyes, everyone at the table saw Bill's hands fall to the floor. He cried out in pain as blood gushed from his wounds. As if that weren't enough, his anklets made the same sounds, and Bill fell over, now relieved of his feet as well.

Chelsea and Hillary watched in horror as their father and husband cried out and bled out. Everyone else was horrified by the inhumanity of it all.

I am locking the thread for a few minutes. You folks sure are good at screwing with my pre-writing.

"Move on from that, you son of a bitch," the mafioso sneered as Wes Boyd's body went limp. After breathing in a deep, victorious breath, the killer proceeded back to their room. Just as they closed their door to turn in for the night, they heard footsteps in the hallway.

Closing the door as much as possible to not be noticed, the mafioso saw a dark figure pass by in the shadowy night. New York may be the city that never sleeps, but Trump Tower was rigged with blackout tinting at night, creating an eerie atmosphere inside the penthouse.

Unable to see the figures face or which door they stopped at, the mafioso simply observed as best they could, trying desperately not to make a sound that would give away their vantage point.

The Keymaster liked the dark of night. It had given them the evidence they needed to move forward, but to what end? These thoughts, numerous as they were, faded to nothingness as The Keymaster approached their target's door. Would it be another let down or would their success right jump to two out of three?

*CLICK*

Success. A brilliant smile engulfed The Keymaster's face, but the dark of the penthouse concealed it. This place held many secrets, yes. One secret that wouldn't be kept for long was the Ted was no longer the only tenant stuck in solitary confinement.

NANOOKTHEGREATANDFEARSOME wrote: ↑Wed Jun 10, 2020 4:27 pm I was under the impression no preference was the same as no vote, not no kill? Is that not accurate?

Since the question has been asked, I will elaborate. The ‘no preference’ option means ‘no lynch,’ however that may not be how those who voted ‘no preference’ interpreted it at the time.

As in any of my games, you only need to ask. I am usually more than happy to clarify points of contention/confusion.

"What do you make of this Wuhan virus?" Hillary asked as she entered the dining room.

"It still seems too early to know for sure," Chelsea responded as she slipped her vote into the box.

"Well I for one think that the president didn't act soon enough," Glenn chimed in as he sat down at the table. "They're reporting the possibility of some states postponing their primaries. That's a threat to the legitimacy of our electoral process."

"Spare me the sanctimony," Shaun groaned. "The CDC is on the case. They're good people."

"Besides," Lawrence sneered, "wouldn't you liked Donny Boy to have his momentum thwarted?"

"That is entirely beside the point," Glenn huffed.

"What's for dinner?" Ted's voice rang out over the intercom.

"You'll found out," Jeb said. "Just be patient."

"Who's counting tonight?" Ted asked.

Wes and Charles were on vote detail tonight. The box slid open and they laid out the votes. At the end, Charles let out a heavy sigh.

"As if the indignity of being held captive by young mister Trump weren't enough," Charles said as he turned to his peers, "being brainwashed into killing my own brother hurts like no pain I have ever known before."

"Is that a confession?" Pamela asked.

"Yes, my dear," Charles responded. "It is. I suppose this is some form of divine justice. I just hope that Barron receives his in short order."

"You killed David?" Bill asked.

"Yes," Charles said, choking on his words. "It gave me no pleasure. I have never known this kind of torment and anguish before in my life. Like I said, this hurts like nothing else."

And that was true. At least until needles jutted out from the bracelets and anklets on his arms and legs. The poison took effect quickly, feeling like liquid-hot metal had entered his bloodstream. The old man wailed in terror as his successful life came to a staggering and humiliating end.

Long Con wrote: ↑Sun Jun 07, 2020 10:53 pm

Scirrus wrote: ↑Sun Jun 07, 2020 10:46 pm Is anyone else unable to vote?

@G-Man needs to make a poll settings adjustment, please stand by.

Done.

The Superdelegate woke up wondering if they were necessary. Things wrapped up so neatly the day before, but perhaps their role in all this was that of insurance. Yes, that had to be it.

The Keymaster woke up early in the hopes of succeeding once more. Feeling alive and full of confidence, The Keymaster strolled down the hallway to their intended target. Pressing the button outside the doorway did not, however, produce the same satisfying clicking sound that came with locking Ted's door. In fact, nothing happened at all. They tried a few more times to no avail. As other doors started to open, The Keymaster made their way to the kitchen, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Except that the killers had made it abundantly clear that things were out of the ordinary.

Around the regal door frame to the dining room, they had written a message in blood- 'Secret secrets are no fun. Secret secrets hurt someone.'

They all looked around the room at each other to sort out who was missing. Well, everyone except Ted, who found himself still locked tight in his room. And everyone except Debbie, whose body was found laid out atop a grand piano in the den. In death she had an almost dreamy look on her face. In another setting, she could have passed for a pale nightclub singer longing for affection. The severed forearm kind of killed the image though.

Much to Glenn Beck's displeasure, Rand Paul dropped out of the race. Much to Hillary Clinton's dismay, Bernie Sanders wasn't going anywhere. Ted Cruz thought he might be going somewhere soon, but as the dinner bell rang, he found his door still locked shut. The only person in the penthouse who was going anywhere wasn't aware of it just yet.

"Hey, there's 13 plates here," Jeb observed. "Maybe we don't have to vote tonight?"

"There's only 12 place settings, Jeb," Shaun said. "One of those plates must be for Ted."

"Oh, right," Jeb sighed.

Sure enough, the unassuming-looking box was on the counter again. Thirteen votes went in and then Pamela walked it over to Ted's door so he could slide his vote out through the slot.

"Who wants to count tonight?" Sidney asked. Nobody moved a muscle. "Well don't everybody volunteer at once," he said and proceeded to open the box.

"Fine, I'll help you," Arnold relented.

The two men lined up the pieces of paper by name as the others watched nervously.

"This can't be right," Arnold fumed.

"It's right there, Arnold" Sidney said. "You can see it for yourself."

"This is bullshit," Arnold roared. "I shouldn't even be here. All I did was take over Donald's second-rate TV show. Why me? Why now?"

"Arnold got the most votes, didn't he?" Debbie asked. Sindey nodded.

"Well now what?" Arnold yelled, veins popping out of his neck and forehead. "Are you all really going to kill me?"

Once again, everyone looked around at each other. This was awkward. A few people turned toward him, their body language speaking volumes in both resignation to what had to be done and, perhaps, a twinge of excitement for doing something so taboo. Arnold backed away from the group in disbelief. He raised his hands as if to ward off the coming onslaught when something high-tech finally happened happen.

The silver bracelets on Arnold's wrists started glowing light blue. The anklets were technically glowing too, but nobody could see that through his socks and pants. He felt the left bracelet vibrating and looked down at it. A message scrolled across the face of the bracelet: "You're fired!"

"What?" Arnold asked.

Before he could utter anything more dignified for last words, the bracelets and anklets started humming and vibrating. Then came the heat and the pain. Sparks flared out from the underside of the accessories as pulses of electricity coursed through his body. At first it caused little more than sporadic involuntary movements, but as the heat and voltage intensified, Arnold's body began to twist in unnatural ways.

Unable to find the energy or motor control to scream, he slumped to the floor and writhed in silent but visible agony. Eventually his eyes rolled back and his skin grew pale, then gray with death.

Wes and Bill put a blanket over Arnold's body and moved it into the hallway. They noticed that the bracelet had changed colors from blue to green. When they returned to the dining room, blast doors slid down and sealed the remaining tenants inside so the penthouse staff could dispose of the body.

"Well," Lawrence said, pulling out a chair from the table, "who's hungry?"

Alarm clocks rang out, doors slid open, and the tenants made their way to the kitchen. For once, the table conversation would definitely be better than the coffee.

"I can't believe Bernie won California," Hillary said as she slumped down into her chair. She downed the last half-mug of her coffee like a college student taking a shot. She slid her mug over to Bill for a refill. "Of all the indignity," she moaned. "California."

"Well I still think Tom Vilsack will clinch the nomination," Sidney said. "It's highly unlikely for an incumbent to get primaried."

"I can't believe that both Texas and Virginia went for Don Jr.," Glenn grumbled. "My faith in the future of our republic is shaken."

"Too bad I didn't take Jr. out instead of Ivanka," Jeb muttered. Heads turned in his direction. "What?" he said. "I'm just saying."

"Quit while you're behind, Jeb," Debbie laughed. "It's what you're best at."

Even Jeb chuckled at the barb. Though they were a room full of rivals, being held captive by a psychotic pubescent punk has a way of adding levity to the mix.

"I can't believe Rubio snagged North Carolina," marveled Lawrence. "I think that actually speaks well for the state."

"Donny was a close second, though," Shaun added, taking a bite of a croissant. "Not much of a win when you basically split the delegates. He pathway has come to an end. Can he even afford to hold on for Florida at this point?"

"I can't believe that David is dead," Charles murmured.

Sure enough, David Koch's body was draped over the sofa in the den. Paper currency had been stuffed into his mouth and the shards of his exclusive credit card, still bloody from being used to slit his throat, were scattered about the coffee table.

"Wait," Pamela said, looking around the room. "Where's Ted?"

"I'm right here," came a disembodied voice.

"Oh God!" Arnold screamed. "David is dead and now Ted's been sucked into the penthouse like that little girl in the Poltergeist movie. Carol Anne! Head towards the light!"

"Get a grip Arnold," Chelsea said. "He's using the intercom on his door."

"Ted," Bill asked, "why are you still in there?"

"It won't open," Ted said through the intercom. "But there's a slot in the door that should be big enough for a plate. Can somebody get me a bagel? Extra cream cheese please!"

"Who wants to spit on it first?" Wes joked.

"I heard that," Ted said.

Long Con wrote: ↑Thu Jun 04, 2020 1:58 pm

M Plus 7 wrote: ↑Wed Jun 03, 2020 9:20 pm

How many times can juliets say the word Sloonei: THE GAME

I don't care if you are good, bad, or indy... You. Do. Not. Mention. THE GAME... in a G-Man game.

HA-HA! HA! HA!

THE GAME is always watching, waiting patiently to strike once more, and at last claim final victory. Soon, friend, soon.

Please note the following addition to the Gameplay section of the second post of the game:

G-Man wrote: ↑Sun May 31, 2020 8:46 pm
Gameplay

11) A tied night poll will result in no doors being unlocked and no letters being revealed.

Just a few quick things-

First, the night will not run a full 24 hours. The 9:00 - 9:30 window suits my real life situation the best and I intend to stick closely to it unless we need to deviate timing to avoid pinching EOD's for two games so closely together.

Second, I had a great lynch post pre-written. I tried to be proactive this time and wrote ahead. But what I wrote involved a death. Sorry for the delay, but you guys did it to yourselves. That'll each me to try to work ahead!

[mention]112[/mention]
[mention]DrWilgy[/mention]
[mention]Dyslexicon[/mention]
[mention]Epignosis[/mention]
[mention]Funnygurl555[/mention]
[mention]Jackofhearts2005[/mention]
[mention]juliets[/mention]
[mention]Long Con[/mention]
[mention]M Plus 7[/mention]
[mention]MacDougall[/mention]
[mention]NANOOKTHEGREATANDFEARSOME[/mention]
[mention]Scirrus[/mention]
[mention]Sloonei[/mention]
[mention]Soneji[/mention]
[mention]TonyStarkPrime[/mention]

After the usual pre-dinner isolation, fifteen people walked into the grand dining room to find only fourteen place settings. The day had been full of discussion, debate, and disagreement. Now, in order for there to be dinner, there had to be death.

One by one, this strange mix of allies and rivals wrote down their votes and slipped them into the box. They stared at each other for a few seconds after the final vote was inserted, as if they expected something high-tech to happen. When it became clear that this was not the case, Jeb approached the box.

"I guess we have to open it back up now," he said.

"I will help you count the votes," Lawrence offered.

Together, the two men laid out the votes and double-checked the math. Looking up, their stunned faces turned toward the others.

"Well," Jeb said, "it's a tie."

"Well now what?" Wes replied. "Does nobody die?"

Once again, everyone looked around at each other. This was awkward.

"Look, I don't want to seem tactless..." Ted Cruz said.

"Too late for that," Debbie interjected.

"...but dinner is getting cold and Super Tuesday coverage starts in 15 minutes," Ted finished.

They all turned to the table and their dinner. But there was still the issue of 15 people and only 14 plates. Another awkward pause.

"Mom and dad, would you two mind sharing a plate?" Chelsea asked.

G-Man wrote: ↑Sun May 31, 2020 8:46 pm
Gameplay

6. A tied lynch will result in no lynch. Votes matter. (This is a politics game for goodness' sake!) There will be no coin flips to determine lynch results.

[mention]Sloonei[/mention]- The thread is locked but your site status pushed past it. Stop posting or I will delete them.

TonyStarkPrime wrote: ↑Wed Jun 03, 2020 6:21 pm Is there a place where I can view the day 0 poll? Juliets' ISO reminded me of something

Your wish is my command. It has been added to the first post in the game (in spoiler tags). Sorry for the delay.

juliets wrote: ↑Mon Jun 01, 2020 9:43 pm @G-Man are you going to put in the ISO links?

Yes. Working on that right now.

Throughout the penthouse, different rooms catered to different political persuasions. FoxNews, CNN, MSNBC, and various livestreams and internet radio broadcasts created a torrent of ideology, opinion, and information. Occasionally a channel would shift to CNBC or FoxBusiness, but most everyone wanted to hear the early morning Super Tuesday coverage.

Would Tom Vilsack bounce back after surprising defeats in New Hampshire and Nevada, or would Bernie Sanders make this a serious race?

Were Donald Trump Jr.'s narrow victory over Rand Paul in Iowa and even narrower loss to Marco Rubio in South Carolina signs that he might struggle to hold onto his father's supporters?

Could Mitt Romney build on his New Hampshire victory in moderate and swing states?

Every talking head had an opinion. Everyone was certain that they would be right by night's end. No one could agree on anything.

Everyone in the penthouse could agree on at least one thing- the high-tech bracelets and anklets that were placed on them overnight were both uncomfortable and unnerving. Mandatory lockdowns were not uncommon, as their captor used them to replenish supplies and bring meals into the kitchen. The use of knock-out gas inside their rooms was even less common but not unheard of.

Breakfast would remove the unsavory aftertaste of the gas from their throats. Today's arrangement was no less impressive than most days. Quiche, breakfast omelettes, home fries, sausage gravy and biscuits, and a plentiful array of fresh fruit and yogurt. Being held hostage by a psychotic teenager was no picnic, but no one could say they weren't fed like kings.

Despite the gas and the new accessories, The Keymaster felt exhilarated. The night provided much-needed evidence to a long-held suspicion. But what to make of it?

Both The Superdelegate and The Parliamentarian were distracted through breakfast. The others assumed it was due to Super Tuesday, but they were really both preoccupied with their mental lists. What would the best first move be? Too much or too little? Decisions, decisions.

When the residents finished their main breakfast course, they approached a dish covered with an opaque lid. This was always the grand finale- something delectable and unique.

"Let's see what's in store for us today," Pamela said. But when she lifted the cover, eagerness turned into confusion, which soon after turned into disappointment. Fear would come later. For now there was a cube with a slot cut into the top, 15 pieces of paper, 15 pens, and a nasty little note that read:

Happy Super Tuesday.

Time to vote.

juliets wrote: ↑Mon Jun 01, 2020 8:27 am Good morning all and welcome Scirrus!

So those tildes under Powers. Back in the old, old, old days that represented text that we were supposed to try and fill in to discover what was being said (in this case what powers are in the game). Anyone else remember the tilde exercises? I think I'll ask G-Man what the deal is and ask him to respond in the thread.

The tildes are indeed an echo of a long lost era. The section filled in with tildes is a puzzle for you players to solve. You do not need to submit guesses as to what they mean, but it is in your best interest to decipher the information they mask. The tildes will reveal their secrets in due time.

[mention]112[/mention]
[mention]DrWilgy[/mention]
[mention]Dyslexicon[/mention]
[mention]Epignosis[/mention]
[mention]Funnygurl555[/mention]
[mention]Jackofhearts2005[/mention]
[mention]juliets[/mention]
[mention]Long Con[/mention]
[mention]M Plus 7[/mention]
[mention]MacDougall[/mention]
[mention]NANOOKTHEGREATANDFEARSOME[/mention]
[mention]novaselinenever[/mention]
[mention]Scirrus[/mention]
[mention]Sloonei[/mention]
[mention]Soneji[/mention]

Go!

The dinner table was buzzing with intrigue and excitement. Super Tuesday was almost here, and both the Republican and Democratic Party primaries offered something to speculate about. There would be plenty of time to talk politics later. There was plenty of time to talk politics any time of day when you're trapped high above the New York skyline with an assortment of political figures from both sides of the aisle. For now, though, there was a meal to tend to.

"Could you please pass the salt, Lawrence?" Glenn Beck asked.

"I'll pass you a knife if you promise to slit your disgusting throat," Lawrence O'Donnell shot back.

"Okay, Lawrence," Beck sighed, "I've been here for about two months now. When are you going to lighten up a little?"

"Relax, Glenn," Arnold Schwarzenegger said with his thick Austrian accent as he passed the salt instead. "Girly-man O'Donnell here has been cold to all of us Republicans. It's not just you."

"It's true," Ted Cruz said, reaching for a dinner roll. "It took him four months just to acknowledge my existence after I arrived."

"Give it time," Debbie Wasserman Schultz chimed in. "It's not easy to be in the company of political rivals in such an intimate way."

"You can say that again," laughed Hillary Clinton. "How's the chicken tonight?"

"It could use a little pepper," Sidney Blumenthal replied.

"That seems to be a trend lately," Chelsea Clinton sighed.

"Maybe our host needs to hire a new cook," David Koch mused.

"Sorry I'm late for dinner," Wes Boyd said as he sat down. "I was watching an interview with Bernie Sanders and-"

"You know the rules, Wes," Jeb Bush admonished.

"No politics at the dinner table," everyone said in unison. They all chuckled, as they were the embodiment of politics at the dinner table- a motley crew of politicians, political commentators, operatives, and influencers.

"How about a little dinner music?" Pamela Brown asked.

"Oh, unlike the chicken, the music selection has been quite good lately," Charles Koch said. "I'm hoping for some more Miles Davis."

"I'd prefer some Coltrane," Bill Clinton said.

"Well of course you would, Bill," Shaun Donovan said as he walked over to the stereo and picking up the CD that was left for them. "But this is one that I don't recognize. Looks like it might be a mix tape sort of thing."

"What's it say?" O'Donnell asked.

"It just says 'Swan Song,'" Donovan replied. It's probably a jab at all of us and our 'early retirement' predicament."

"Well, don't keep us waiting," David chided. "None of us are getting any younger."

Donovan inserted the CD and the room was filled with the sweet sounds of a string quartet. After a few minutes, the music faded and a young voice spoke.

"Silence please! Now that I finally have you all together, the time has come for you all to be held guilty for your crimes.

"Sidney Blumenthal and Debbie Wasserman Schultz- you are guilty of running Operation Cobalt, the traitorous conspiracy organization that attempted to sabotage my father's presidential campaign.

"Wes Boyd, Shaun Donovan, and Lawrence O'Donnell- you are all guilty of participating in Operation Cobalt. You're pathetic fear of my father led you to have plastic surgery so that you could infiltrate the campaign and replace several of my father's most trusted advisors.

"Pamela Brown- you too are guilty of participating in Operation Cobalt. You attempted to replace my sister Tiffany to cause personal and political turmoil during a crucial time in the campaign.

"Hillary Clinton- you were my father's opponent in the election. You were aware of Operation Cobalt and approved of the political and human damage that it caused. You attempted to make a mockery of my father on the campaign trail, and you stole the election that my father should have and would have won.

"Bill and Chelsea Clinton- you are guilty by association. You were generally aware of the conspiracy against my father, and you spoke many nasty lies about him.

"Ted Cruz- you hijacked the nomination after my father's death and lost the election. You are guilty of turning Republicans against my father during the primary season and even after my father became the nominee. You are also guilty of being a pathetic loser. You lost the presidency, your incompetence lost you your senate seat, and your vanity and ego lost a reliable Republican senate seat in Texas of all states. Long is your list of failures.

"Glenn Beck- you are guilty of speaking ill of not only my father, but now also my brother, as he attempts to pick up the pieces of my father's legacy and restore greatness to America. You used your media empire to mock and speak against my father, sowing discord and division among a Republican electorate that should have united behind my father's greatness.

"Arnold Schwarzenegger- you are guilty of tarnishing my father's stellar media profile by being such an abysmal host and executive producer that The Celebrity Apprentice was cancelled after just one season with you behind the wheel. This show, that meant something to millions, was ruined by your incompetence.

"Charles and David Koch- you are guilty of financing and orchestrating a secret plot to assassinate my father.

"And finally, Jeb Bush- you are guilt of participating in that assassination plot. You had plastic surgery to assume the place of my brother-in-law, who was later killed as part of the cover-up. You are personally responsible for the death of both my sister Ivanka and my father, the great Donald J. Trump.

"These are your crimes against my family, and they are many. Up to now, as I patiently collected you all, I have housed, fed, and clothed you. You may not have had your freedom during this time, but you had many creature comforts that only a Trump can provide. But you are all here now, and my revenge will be twofold.

"Tomorrow you will witness the start of my brother's rise to the Republican nomination. He will be the nominee and he will become president. There is nothing you can do to stop it. Tomorrow will also begin your expiation.

"There is nothing you can do, say, or offer me that will bring my father and sister back. There are no reparations that I or my family find acceptable except the shedding of your blood. Tomorrow your blood will start to flow, but I am going to have fun with it.

"During your time in captivity, each of you have been held in isolation from time to time. During these times, several of you have been brainwashed to perform certain tasks. Among those tasks is killing the others, one by one each night. Those performing the killing are in the minority and can only be stopped by selecting one of you to die at the end of each day.

"Do not attempt to discern whom among you is a brainwashed killer based on your political ideologies. The brainwashing was done at random. Whoever remains after this little game of cat and mouse will continue to live in the lap of luxury here in Trump Tower. After all, the rest of the world thinks you're all dead. Just know that winning the game means living with the fact that blood is on your hands. Some of you are already better at that than others.

"Finish your evening meal, enjoy the dessert, and get some rest. Morning will be here before you know it."

The dinner table was silent for quite some time as each of the captives made sense of what they had heard. Was it some kind of twisted joke? Would there really be bloodshed arranged as a sick game?

ROLES:


Arnold Schwarzenegger
Former Governor of California and former host of the now-cancelled Celebrity Apprentice.
Vanilla Civvie.



Bill Clinton
Former President of the United States and husband of Hillary Clinton.
Vanilla Civvie.



Charles Koch
Billionaire and conservative fundraiser. He was a co-conspirator in the plot to assassinate Donald J. Trump.
Vanilla Mafia



Chelsea Clinton
Daughter of Bill and Hillary Clinton. She worked on her mother's presidential campaign and was part of her mother's administration.



David Koch
Billionaire and conservative fundraiser. He was a co-conspirator in the plot to assassinate Donald J. Trump.
Vanilla Civvie



Debbie Wasserman Schultz
Former chair of the DNC. She helped run Operation Cobalt, the conspiracy designed to destabilize Donald J. Trump's presidential campaign.
Vanilla Civvie.



Glenn Beck
Conservative talk radio personality. He opposed Donald J. Trump's candidacy and recently opposed Don Jr.'s presidential bid.



Hillary Clinton
Former First Lady, Senator, Secretary of State, and briefly held the office of President of the United States before resigning.



Jeb Bush
Former governor of Florida. He ran against Donald J. Trump in the Republican primaries of 2016. He was also the sole field operative in the Koch brothers' plot to assassinate Donald J. Trump.
Mafia Power Role - The Parliamentarian



Lawrence O'Donnell
Former MSNBC personality and self-avowed socialist. He was a field operative for Operation Cobalt and infiltrated the Trump campaign in disguise.
Vanilla Civvie.



Pamela Brown
Former CNN reporter. She was a field operative for Operation Cobalt and infiltrated the Trump campaign in disguise.
Vanilla Civvie.



Shaun Donovan
Former HUD secretary under Barack Obama. He was a field operative for Operation Cobalt and infiltrated the Trump campaign in disguise.
Vanilla Civvie.



Sidney Blumenthal
Former aide to and longtime confidant to Bill Clinton. He also helped run Operation Cobalt.
Third Party Power Role - The Keymaster



Ted Cruz
Former US Senator from Texas. He became the Republican nominee after Donald Trump's death. He was removed from his senate seat after he was found to be part of a conspiracy working against Hillary Clinton's administration.
Vanilla Civvie.



Wes Boyd
Liberal activist and founder of MoveOn.org. He was a field operative for Operation Cobalt and infiltrated the Trump campaign in disguise.
Vanilla Civvie.






POWERS:

~h~ K~~~~s~~~
~~u~ ~~l~ ~s ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~~. ~~ ~h~s ~~~~, ~~ch ~l~~~~ h~s ~~~~ ~ss~~~~~ ~ ~~~~ ~u~~~~. ~~u ~~l~ k~~w ~~u~ ~~~~ ~u~~~~, ~~~ ~~u ~~~ ~h~ ~~l~ ~l~~~~ ~~ ~h~ ~~~~ ~h~~ k~~ws wh~ch ~~~~ ~u~~~~ h~s ~~~~ ~ss~~~~~ ~~ ~h~~. ~~u~ w~~c~~ ~s ~~ ~~~ ~h~~~ ~l~~~~s l~ck~~ ~~s~~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~s ~~ ~h~ s~~~ ~~~~. ~~ch ~~~h~ ~~u ~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~ l~ck ~ ~l~~~~ ~f ~~u~ ch~~c~ ~~s~~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~. ~f ~h~~~ ~~~~ h~s ~l~~~~~ ~~~~ u~l~ck~~ ~~ ~h~ ~~~h~ ~~ll, ~h~~ ~~u w~ll ~~~ ~~ ~~l~ ~~ l~ck ~h~~~ ~~~~ f~~ ~h~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~f ~h~ ~~~~. ~f ~h~~~ ~~~~ h~s ~~~ ~~~~ u~l~ck~~ ~~~, ~h~~ ~h~~ w~ll ~~ l~ck~~ ~~s~~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~ u~~~l ~~~ ~f ~h~~~ ~h~~~s h~~~~~s.

~f ~h~~~ ~~~~ ~s u~l~ck~~ ~~ ~h~ ~~~h~ ~~ll, ~h~~ ~h~~ w~ll ~~~~~~ ~h~ ~~~~. ~f ~~u ~~~ l~~ch~~ ~~ ~~~h~k~ll~~, ~~ w~ll ~~~~~~~ ~ ~~l~~s~ ~f ~~~s~~ ~~s ~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~, k~ll~~~ ~h~~. ~f ~~u ~~~ ~~l~ ~~ l~ck ~h~~~ ~~~~l~ ~~s~~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~s, ~h~~ ~~~s~~ ~~s w~ll ~~ ~~l~~s~~ ~~ ~~ch ~f ~h~s~ ~~~~s, k~ll~~~ ~h~s~ ~h~~~ ~l~~~~s ~~~ fulf~ll~~~ ~~u~ w~~c~~. ~f ~~u~ ~~~~ ~~~~~~s l~ck~~l~ ~~ ~h~s ~~~~, ~h~~ ~~u w~ll ~~ ~~l~ ~~ l~ck ~~u~s~lf ~~s~~~, ~~~k~~~ ~~u~ ~~~~ f~~~ ~h~ ~~~~. ~f ~~u~ ~~~~ h~s ~~~~ u~l~ck~~ ~~ ~h~ ~~~h~ ~~ll, ~h~~ ~~u ~us~ ~~~~~~ ~~ ~h~ ~~~~, ~~~~s~~ ~s ~h~ K~~~~s~~~. ~f ~h~s ~ccu~s, ~h~~ ~~u w~ll ~~ ~~l~ ~~ ~~~~~~~ l~ck~~~ ~~~ ~~~s~~ ~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~ ~~ch ~~~h~.

L~ck~~~ s~~~~~~ ~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~ w~ll ~~~v~~~ ~h~~ f~~~ ~~~~~ k~ll~~ ~~ ~h~ ~~f~~, ~s w~ll ~s h~v~~~ ~~~ ~~~h~ ~~w~~ us~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~~~s~ ~h~~. ~h~~ w~ll ~ls~ ~~ ~~~~v~~ f~~~ ~h~ l~~ch ~~ll f~~ ~h~ ~u~~~~~~ ~f ~h~~~ s~~~ ~~s~~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~. ~l~~~~s l~ck~~ ~~s~~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~ w~ll ~~ ~~l~ ~~ ~~s~ f~~ ~h~ f~~s~ ~w~~~~-f~u~ h~u~s ~f ~h~ ~~~ ~h~s~ ~~~ f~~ ~h~ f~~s~ ~w~lv~ h~u~s ~f ~h~ ~~~h~ ~h~s~. ~l~~~~s l~ck~~ ~~ ~h~~~ ~~~~ w~ll ~~ ~~l~ ~~ c~s~ ~h~~~ v~~~ ~u~~~~ ~h~ f~~s~ ~w~~~~-f~u~ h~u~s ~f ~h~ ~~~ ~h~s~.

~~u c~~~~~ ~~ l~~ch~~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~, ~~~ ~~u c~~~~~ ~~ k~ll~~ ~~ ~h~ ~~f~~ u~~~l ~~u h~v~ ~~~h~~ c~~~~~~u~~~ ~~ ~h~ l~~ch~~~ ~f ~ ~~~~~~ ~f ~h~ ~~f~~ ~~ u~~~l ~~u h~v~ l~ck~~ u~ ~ ~~~~~~ ~f ~h~ ~~f~~. ~~u w~ll ~~~ ~~ ~~l~ ~f ~~u h~v~ l~ck~~ u~ ~ ~~~~~~ ~f ~h~ ~~f~~.



~h~ ~~~l~~~~~~~~~~~
~~u ~~~ ~~~~ ~f ~h~ ~~f~~ ~~~~. ~~ch ~~~, ~~u w~ll ~~ ~~l~ ~~ s~~ ~ ~~s~~~c~~~~ ~~ ~~~h~ ~~s~ ~c~~v~~~. ~~u ~~~ l~~~~ ~ll ~l~~~~s ~~ ~~~wh~~~ ~~~w~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~w~~~~ ~~s~s f~~ ~h~ ~~~h~ ~h~s~. ~~u ~~~ ~~l~ us~ ~~ch l~~~~ l~v~l, ~~~ ~h~~u~h ~w~~~~, ~~c~ ~ll ~~~~. ~l~~~~s wh~ v~~l~~~ ~h~ ~~~h~ ~h~s~ ~~s~~~~ l~~~~ w~ll ~~ s~~~~~~~ ~f ~h~~~ v~~~ ~h~ f~ll~w~~~ ~~~ ~h~s~. ~~u ~us~ su~~~~ ~~u~ ~~s~~~~ l~~~~ ~~~u~s~ ~~f~~~ ~h~ ~~~ ~f ~h~ ~~~ ~h~s~.


~h~ Su~~~~~l~~~~~
~~u ~~~ ~ c~vv~~ ~~w~~ ~~l~. ~~ch ~~~h~, ~~u ~~~ s~l~c~ ~w~ ~l~~~~s. ~h~ f~ll~w~~~ ~~~ ~h~s~, ~h~~~ v~~~ v~lu~s w~ll ~~ ~~c~~~s~~. ~~u ~~~ ~~c~~~s~ ~~~ ~l~~~~s v~~~ v~lu~ ~~ ~ ~~~~~~u~~ ~f ~~~ h~lf, ~~k~~~ ~h~~~ v~~~ w~~~h ~~~ ~~~ ~~~-h~lf v~~~. ~h~ ~~h~~ ~l~~~~ w~ll s~~ ~h~~~ v~~~ v~lu~ ~~u~l~~. ~~u ~~~ ~~ ch~~s~ wh~ch ~l~~~~ ~~c~~v~s wh~ch v~~~ v~lu~ ~~c~~~s~. ~~u ~~~ ~~~ ~~h~~c~ ~h~ v~~~ v~lu~ ~f ~~~ ~l~~~~ f~~ ~ s~c~~~ ~~~~ u~~~l ~ll l~v~~~ ~l~~~~s h~v~ h~~ ~h~~~ v~~~ v~lu~s ~~c~~~s~~. ~~u ~~~ ~~~ ~~c~~~s~ ~~u~ ~w~ v~~~ v~lu~ u~~~l ~ll ~~h~~ l~v~~~ ~l~~~~s h~v~ h~~ ~h~~~ v~~~ v~lu~ ~~c~~~s~~.

RULES AND WHATNOT

This partially-open setup game is for 15 players. As a Heist, there are only three power roles in the game. I will be using the following standard G-Man Game matrix:

Gameplay
1) Days are 48 hours long. I will do everything in my power to keep poll deadlines consistent.
2) Nights are 24 hours long.
3) Only those players who have BTSC may communicate with each other outside of the game thread but ONLY in designated BTSC threads or chat rooms. For everyone else, no game-related discussion is permitted outside the game thread.
4) Votes in the poll are the only votes that count. It's helpful but not mandatory that you declare your vote in the thread in a way that stands out to your peers and the host.
5) All votes are changeable all the way up to the deadline.
6) A tied lynch will result in no lynch. Votes matter. (This is a politics game for goodness' sake!) There will be no coin flips to determine lynch results.
7) Standard alignment wincons are in effect unless otherwise stated.
8) Dead is dead; you don't get to come back from that. Dead players are stripped of their BTSC rights.
9) Roles will be revealed upon death.
10) Additional gameplay elements will be added/revealed on an as-needed basis.
11) A tied night poll will result in no doors being unlocked and no letters being revealed.


Rules
1) Respect your fellow players, your host, and your Facilitator/MOD.
1a) Don't be an asshat.
1b) Don't get butthurt.
2) If you feel like another player is out of line or making/taking things personal/ly, contact the Facilitator/MOD, Dunya.
3) No BTSC regarding the game outside of the game thread(s). Players are told in their rolecard if they have BTSC. If you don't have it, don't engage in it. Violating this rule will result in a modkill.
4) No editing or deleting posts.
5) Self-voting is prohibited.
6) Double-targeting is prohibited.
7) Info-dumping is allowed, but do so at your own risk. Sharing is caring, but it can also get you killed.
8) Off-topic posts should be in OT Green.
9) Dead players are to post in Dead Red.
10) Non-Players should post in Non-Player Blue.
11) This is the host's color. Do not post in this color.
12) Participation is polite to everyone involved. If I feel you may not be paying attention to the game, I will reach out to you. Replacements and modkills may be employed if necessary. If you sign up, please play. If you can't play, request replacement.
13) Additional rules will be added/revealed on an as-needed basis.

Players

ALIVE:
112
NANOOK
TonyStarkPrime (formerly novaselinenever)



VICTORIOUS THIRD PARTY (LEFT THE GAME):
Dyslexicon- SIDNEY BLUMENTHAL- Liberal, Political Advisor, THE KEYMASTER


DEAD:
Jackofhearts2005- DAVID KOCH- Billionaire, Republican, Vanilla Civvie (Killed Night 1)
sprityo (formerly juliets)- ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER- Actor, Governor, Vanilla Civvie (Lynched Day 2)
Epignosis- DEBBIE WASSERMAN SCHULTZ- Democrat, Congresswoman, Vanilla Civvie (Killed Night 2)
Sloonei- CHARLES KOCH- Billionaire, Republican, Vanilla Mafia (Lynched Day 3)
DrWilgy- WES BOYD- Liberal, Elite, Vanilla Civvie (Killed Night 3)
Scirrus- BILL CLINTON- President, Democrat, Vanilla Civvie (Lynched Day 4)
Long Con- TED CRUZ- Senator, Republican, Vanilla Civvie (Gassed by The Keymaster Night 4/Day 5)
Soneji- JEB BUSH- Governor, Republican, Conspirator, Mafia Power Role- THE PARLIAMENTARIAN (Gassed by The Keymaster Night 4/Day 5)
Funnygurl555- LAWRENCE O'DONNELL- TV Host, Socialist, Vanilla Civvie (Gassed by The Keymaster Night 4/Day 5)
M Plus 7- PAMELA BROWN- TV Reporter, Conspirator, Vanilla Civvie (Lynched Day 5)
MacDougall- SHAUN DONOVAN- Democrat, Conspirator, Vanilla Civvie



ALTERNATES WAITING IN THE WINGS:

Dragon D. Luffy
Turnip Head


Host Post ISO Link


Backstory
Here is a link to first post of Blue vs. Red. In that post, you will find links to the host posts for the first game in this series, Red vs. Blue, links to all host posts in sign-ups for Blue vs. Red, as well as the links to host posts for the main game of Blue vs. Red. Reading all this content is not essential, but glossing over some of it will help you understand the alternate history in which these games take place, and the major players within it.

Pre-Game Posts:
Code Red
Get to the Chopper
Redemption Song?
Gone Girl
The Agony of Defeat
In It To Win It
Not a Fan

Game Posts:
The Last Supper- Night 0 begins.
Anchors Aweigh- Day 1 begins.
Only in America- Day 1 ends in a tie. No one is lynched.
When Will We Get Paid?- Night 1 ends. Jackofhearts2005 is killed. He was DAVID KOCH, a vanilla civvie. Long Con is locked inside his room by The Keymaster.
Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue- Day 2 ends. Sprityo is lynched. He was ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER, a vanilla civvie. Long Con is still locked inside his room.
Eve of Destruction- Night 2 ends. Epignosis is killed. He was DEBBIE WASSERMAN SCHULTZ, a vanilla civvie. Long Con is still locked up.
Have You Forgotten- Day 3 ends. Sloonei is lynched. He was CHARLES KOCH, a vanilla mafioso. Long Con is still locked in his room.
Tramp the Dirt Down- Night 3 ends. DrWilgy is killed. He was WES BOYD, a vanilla civvie. Soneji is locked in his room. Long Con is still locked up.
Some Gave All- Day 4 ends. Scirrus is lynched. He was BILL CLINTON, a vanilla civvie. Long Con and Soneji are still locked up.
A Change Is Gonna Come- Night 4 ends. Nobody dies. Funnygurl555 is locked in her room. Long Con and Soneji are still locked up.
Fuck the System- Early Day 5- Dyslexicon (SIDNEY BLUMENTHAL - THE KEYMASTER) fulfills his wincon. Long Con (TED CRUZ, vanilla civvie), Soneji (JEB BUSH, mafia power role- THE PARLIAMENTARIAN), and Funnygurl555 (LAWRENCE O'DONNELL, vanilla civvie) are gassed.
American Child- Day 5 ends. M Plus 7 is lynched. He was PAMELA BROWN, a vanilla civvie.
I Ain't Marching Anymore- Night 5 ends. MacDougall is killed. He was SHAUN DONOVAN, a vanilla civvie.


Poll Screenshots:

Night 0 Poll
Day 1 Poll
Night 1 Poll
Day 2 Poll
Night 2 Poll
Day 3 Poll
Night 3 Poll
Day 4 Poll
Night 4 Poll
Day 5 Poll
Night 5 Poll