Esbjörn Svensson Trio Mafia [AD INFINITUM / Endgame]

[Ricochet]

Esbjörn Svensson Trio Mafia

a tribute to the late Esbjörn Svensson and, why not, jazz music as well

a game for 13 players

Closed setup.
All flips will be revealed.

[Ricochet]

Gameplay, Rules

Gameplay

P1) Day phases will last 48 hours. Night phases will last 24 hours. Day 0 will last 24 hours. Mafia will only be able to interact in BTSC during the Night, but the thread discussion will otherwise not be closed during that phase.
m2) At the end of a Day phase, the player with the most votes will be lynched. Votes must be cast in the poll to count. Announcing your vote in the thread isn't compulsory, but the Grand Spreadsheetmaster wouldn't mind you doing so every step of the way. Not one bit. Lynch ties will be decided by a jazz improv showdown. Alternatively or realistically, a coin toss.
M2) Votes in the poll are changeable at all times. Selfvotes are permitted. Player can opt for a "No Lynch" vote in any phase, but only if that option gets the majority of votes, will it count as the lynch result.
m3) At the end of a Night phase, a player will be targeted by the Mafia team to be nightkilled.
P4) All players belonging to the winning faction will win, dead or alive. A player of the marmot species, if present in the game, will win only if the Host allows it.
P5) All flips are revealed in detail at the end of a phase.
m6) This game is a closed setup, so any further gameplay-based details will not be posted or explained until they happen to be revealed throughout the game.
M6) You will, however, have noticed that this game is also a sockpuppet game. Socks are completely irrelevant to the closed setup. There is no reason to consider it otherwise unless you suffer from apophenia.
m7) Roleclaiming and infodumping are permitted. Disclosing any PM material received via the Host is prohibited. Sockrevealing is prohibited. Sockguessing is up to you, if you think it serves the game. If you accidentally post under your real identity, well that's that, the Host will not be cleaning up and you won't get penalized either. Just do your best not to sockgaffe. Protip: log in and play this game on a different browser than the one you normally use for The Syndicate. Roleplay is optional. Off-topic jazz discussions are heavily encouraged.
m7) After the game concludes, players may submit votes via PMs for the MVP of the game. The player receiving the most votes will be crowned MVP and become eligible for The Syndicate's All-Star Heist Game.

Rules
P1) Play in a civil and respectful manner towards your fellow players, the Host and the Mod. Remember that playing a game of deception and engaging in heated arguments is no reason to take it personal or step outside the spirit of the game's boundaries. PM foremost your Mod of Duty, aka MovingPictures07 or, for relevant issues, The Host as well with any vents or rants.
d2) A host-designed location will be granted for BTSC partners [due to the sockpuppet feature, no on-site spectator thread will be created]. BTSC is otherwise strictly prohibited between players who don't have it or during phases in which it is not allowed, for players who do.
M3) You should normally find it impossible to edit or delete your posts in the game thread, especially since this is a sockpuppet game. If by any chance you possess magic powers, do not use them for this purpose.
a4) Players are generally required to post in white during regular gameplay, apart for nuancing specific posts with appropriate colors, if they desire to.
d5) Dead players should post using the {Dead} button and off-topic, death reaction posts notwithstanding.
a5) Non-players should post using the {np} button and off-topic at all times.
d6) Any off-topic post should be written using the {OT} button.
a6) This is the color in which The Host will be writing. Don't use it!
P8) Post jazz hands in the first post of your game if you have read the rules up to this point.

Participation Score and Game Elimination

Participation Score and Game Elimination standards have been annulled, because I'm in a good mood.
Just give your best to play, ok?

Please?

Please?!

[Ricochet]

Player List, Events

Socklist

Alive (6)

John Coltrane - [ Posts ] - WINNER
Miles Davis - [ Posts ] - WINNER
Béla Fleck - [ Posts ] - WINNER
Charles Mingus - [ Posts ] - WINNER
Chris Potter - [ Posts ] - WINNER
Hiromi Uehara - [ Posts ] - WINNER

Dead (7)

Michael Bublé - [ Posts ] - LYNCHED Day 1: 'Dodge the Dodo', Mafia godfather
Fats Navarro - [ Posts ] - KILLED Night 1: 'The Rube Thing', Vanilla civilian - WINNER
Tito Puente - [ Posts ] - LYNCHED Day 2: 'The Wraith', Vanilla mafia
Billie Holiday - [ Posts ] - KILLED Night 2: 'Elevation of Love', Vanilla civilian - WINNER
Ornette Coleman - [ Posts ] - LYNCHED Day 3: 'Jazz', Civilian cop - WINNER
Vince Guaraldi - [ Posts ] - KILLED Night 3: 'The Left Lane', Vanilla civilian - WINNER
Bill Dixon - [ Posts ] - LYNCHED Day 4: 'Letter from the Leviathan', Vanilla mafia

Revealed roles and identities

Fats Navarro / DrWilgy > "The Rube Thing" from Live in Hamburg. Vanilla civilian.
Billie Holiday / Silverwolf > "Elevation of Love" from Seven Days of Falling. Vanilla civilian.
Ornette Coleman / Vompatti > "Jazz" from Leucocyte. Civilian cop. Every Night, can check a player to determine his role and alignment. Receives one free ID on another civilian at the end of D0.
Vince Guaraldi / G-Man > "The Left Lane" from 301. Vanilla civilian.

Michael Bublé / Scotty > "Dodge the Dodo" from From Gagarin's Point of View. Mafia godfather. Any read on him will have him show up as civilian.
Tito Puente / Sorsha > "The Wraith" from Good Morning Susie Soho. Vanilla mafia.
Bill Dixon / agleaminranks > "Letter from the Leviathan" from Viaticum. Vanilla mafia.

Gameplay events

(Day 0) Prelude: Tuesday Sadland: The jazz spirits are gathering.
(Day 1) Take 1: Premonition
(Night 1) Rest 1: Feeling Dodo: Michael Bublé / Scotty has been kicked out of the band. His role song was 'Dodge the Dodo' off From Gagarin's Point of View and he was the mafia godfather.
(Day 2) Take 2: Boperation: Fats Navarro / DrWilgy has been killed. His role song was 'The Rube Thing' off Live in Hamburg and he was vanilla civilian.
(Night 2) Rest 2: Not Quite My Tito: Tito Puente / Sorsha has been kicked out of the band. Her role song was 'The Wraith' off Good Morning Susie Soho and she was vanilla mafia.
(Day 3) Take 3: Lady Swings the Blues: Billie Holiday / Silverwolf has been killed. Her role song was 'Elevation of Love' off Seven Days of Falling and she was vanilla civilian.
(Night 3) Rest 3: To Whom Who Keeps a Record: Ornette Coleman / Vompatti has been kicked out of the band. His role song was 'Jazz' off Leucocyte and he was the civilian cop.
(Day 4) Take 4: Good Ol' Vince Guaraldi: Vince Guaraldi / G-Man has been killed. His role song was 'The Left Lane' off 301 and he was vanilla civilian.
Rest 4: Vade Mecum, What a Wonderful World of Tomorrow: Bill Dixon / agleaminranks has been kicked out of the band. His role song was 'Letter from the Leviathan' off Viaticum and he was vanilla mafia.
(Endgame) Postludium: The Theme: Esbjörn Svensson Trio Mafia has concluded! The civilian jazz players have won!

[Ricochet]

And so, the Host saw that his game was ready to be hosted and looked in his old journal notebooks for some inspiration. The first date he checked, however, was a day written in sad blue ink.

17.VI.2008

"Early wake up, breakfast and the news that Esbjörn Svensson had passed away a few days ago. It happened last weekend, actually, but I hadn't read about it until today. Didn't quite notice others posting about it on the forums either. Now, I'm very much a bizarre and irrational person, with bizarre and irrational viewpoints, when it comes to thinking about death and mourning, which others tend to kindly remind me when irritated by my noncomformist views and lack of emotional response. But this time, E.S.'s death almost unlocked that human reply and shudder that seemed to elude me. It bereaved me, like no other artist's death had done before. I'm part of a fanbase of rather old artists that, sooner or later, are bound to take their cue out the door with the exit sign. But E.S. didn't fit the same profile. Everything about his freakish, sudden, shocking scuba accident is purely tragic. What's worse is that the Trio's activity now seems extinguished, whereas their previous 11 albums gave the impression that they could easily generate another 11 albums of even greater substance.

It's a startling thought, given that only one year and a half ago I had seen them play a whooping, overly generous 2-hour concert in my own hometown, which was no short of a miraculous event. It was back when E.S. was slowly becoming one of my favourite jazz pianists, next to the mighty Corea and Jarrett, of the ones I had discovered so far. Sitting in the Opera House's uppermost circle of the amphitheater-like concert hall to witness them was the closest contact I had with the three of them. Besides the music's connection of course. Dazzling, imaginative fragments from their well-known repertoire, binded together with long, ecstatic or intelligently built improvisational intermissions. The whole concert was recorded to be broadcast by the national television and still circles around in full on the internet. Local fans of the band tend to brag to this day that the concert in our town was even better than their triumphant Live in Hamburg recording, that they released one year later, in 2007. Not sure I would go that far, but even so, it was sort of an inch or two close to actually being true. Oh, what memories..."

===

At a later point in time:

<mpsocky>: So what's up? How's it going?
<vap_tm>: So-so. Working on preparing my game.
<mpsocky>: So excited for that one. It looks like it's going to be awesome.
<vap_tm>: So much details to worry about.
<mpsocky>: So true.
<vap_tm>: So many memories to think about. Including hearing about Esbjörn's passing.
<mpsocky>: So saddening, what a legend!
<vap_tm>: So unexpected to read about it.
<mpsocky>: So out of the blue.
<vap_tm>: So completely shocked by it.
<mpsocky>: So disheartening to lose him as an artist.
<vap_tm> So unreal that their music should suddenly stop here.
<mpsocky>: Such a loss in jazz history.
<vap_tm>: Such a way for it to all end.
<mpsocky>: Still, such a great ensemble, what a legacy!
<vap_tm>: So much to cherish.
<mpsocky>: So many great albums.
<vap_tm>: So much creativity in their evolution.
<mpsocky>: So much intensity.
<vap_tm>: So many emotions.
<mpsocky>: So much joy and passion.
<vap_tm>: So overwhelming.
<mpsocky>: So inspirational.
<vap_tm>: So out of words right now.
<mpsocky>: So understandable.
<vap_tm>: No, I mean, I'm out of things to say.
<mpsocky>: Oh.
...
...
<mpsocky>: Say, how about we gather some friends over at the Syndicate, to spend some quality time talk about E.S.T. and jazz?
<vap_tm>: That'd be nice.
<mpsocky>: Something to cheer you up.
<vap_tm>: Mm-hmm.

The Host has fallen into a blue funk. Gather up, oh great jazz spirits, to make him feel better.
Day 0 will last 23 hours.

[Ricochet]

You may now post. And a one, and a two, and a one two three two two three four three three two two three ...

[Principal Skinner]

[Paprika]

Hello

[Ricochet]

Since there is no Spectator Chat for this game, non-players can PM me if they are in a sockguessing mood or want to comment on events. Keep in mind, however, that this game will not be spoiled for spectators.

[Principal Skinner]

Why so blue, oh great eye'd one?

[The Dry Flood]

John da Trane is here.

The one and only pioneer of modes in jazzzzzzz and the forefront of the free jazz movement.

[Paprika]

So, let's get down to business and start sock guessing.

Here's all the players from sign ups:
MetalMarsh
DrWilgy
G-Man
Agleaminranks
A Pærson
Polo
Long Con
Sig

Green being most likely playing to Orange being most likely not playing. I think we should make it our goal to lynch G-Man day 1.

[nutellaphant]

[The Dry Flood]

So, let's get down to business and start sock guessing.

Here's all the players from sign ups:
MetalMarsh
DrWilgy
G-Man
Agleaminranks
A Pærson
Polo
Long Con
Sig

Green being most likely playing to Orange being most likely not playing. I think we should make it our goal to lynch G-Man day 1.

Never heard of such low class jazz players.

[1337]

Hi everyone!!!!

[Thundercat]

If there is no dance, there is not music! Vamos a bailar muchachos & muchachas!

[Towny McTownface]

Good evening to all you crazy cats. Let's keep this party swingin' to cheer up our blue host.

[MartinWP69]

It's lookin mighty Buble out here today! Hello all!

[November]

Hi there!

[Paprika]

So, let's get down to business and start sock guessing.

Here's all the players from sign ups:
MetalMarsh
DrWilgy
G-Man
Agleaminranks
A Pærson
Polo
Long Con
Sig

Green being most likely playing to Orange being most likely not playing. I think we should make it our goal to lynch G-Man day 1.

Never heard of such low class jazz players.

You shot down my rhythm rather fast.

Who do you think's hiding behind the masks?

[Principal Skinner]

I would just like to point out that so far I'm the only one who has read the rules.

Why is Michael Bublé here.

Trane, was spinning Ascension earlier. Really hit the spot at the moment. Mmm.

[Echo]

I would just like to point out that so far I'm the only one who has read the rules.

And what good has it done for you?

[Paprika]

Bill is correct and will not recieve my vote.

[Tangrowth]

Hey all! I'm the Moderator on Duty for this game. As such, please don't hesitate to PM me at any time that you're feeling like the game is getting personal, whether you just want to vent or whether you have a serious problem with another player that you want to be resolved. We want to keep this game as fun as possible for everyone, so if you're feeling heated, don't dump your feelings in the thread but come to me instead!

Thanks folks! I hope you enjoy this awesome game that Ricochet has put together for you.

Jazz on.

[MartinWP69]

I would just like to point out that so far I'm the only one who has read the rules.

Why is Michael Bublé here.

Trane, was spinning Ascension earlier. Really hit the spot at the moment. Mmm.

Yikes, how embarrassing!
I don't do jazz hands,
I just shake 'em
and music croons forth.

Why is Bill Dixon here? I didn't know country music was a form of Jazz.

[Towny McTownface]

Ah, hmm, yes. Well, forgive me, blue host, for overlooking this.

[Principal Skinner]

Jazz is whatever you want it to be, baby. Jazz is the purest representation of the turmoils and exuberations and any sort of -ations your soul wants to get out to the world. If you make music with that in mind, then it's jazz music. Ahh.

[Fuskdall]

Whoa, let's get this game started right! And I don't mean 'round midnight, I mean right now!

[Principal Skinner]

Welcome, Don Cheadle.

[Ricochet]

Been hearing mixed vibe-rates about that upcoming movie.

[Principal Skinner]

I just wonder, from seeing the trailers, how much of Miles' life actually involved gangster gunplay, explosions, and car chases. I'd like to see it nonetheless.

[Fuskdall]

Trust me man, it was chock full of all of that, and more!

I'm a changed man now though - Civilian life agrees with me much more.

[nutellaphant]

I think my life would be a little more exciting with gunplay and car chases

but I have plenty of explosions for now

[Ricochet]

Roughly an hour before we get down to business. Two personalities have not shown up yet.

[Ricochet]

16.09.2008

"Some days ago, the band's new and also final album, Leucocyte, arrived in the mail. The music was composed and recorded by the band in the first half of this year, although you could technically say it all boiled down to a few arduous session days, certainly not a challenge that this trio could not surmount. But it's important to think of it as having been made in the first half of the year, since back then E.S. was still alive. I hear that the material was sent off to "post-production" come May, whilst the worst had happened two months later.

The first listen was overwhelming. I moved the player next to my desk one evening, intent to sit and contemplate throughout the audition. But mere concentration quickly turned into losing sight of anything else and not hearing any other sound, except the music that was fencing me in. I could hardly snap out of the trance and regain my composure, one hour later. As dark as it sounds, death is ultimately the most chilling aspect in this recording's essence. Once you analyse the product itself, it's quite possible that the track titles or the meaning of the album could have been chosen "post-mortem"; I mean, three pieces happen to be called Premonition, Ad Mortem or Ad Infinitum. Besides, the cover has the album title desintegrating, cell-like, in successive horizontal blocks.

However, this changes nothing regarding the music that they played, that they recorded, that they ultimately now have as legacy, which proves to be the darkest, most chaotic and experimental outpour of jazz and sonic effects that they have ever produced. Surely this can web one's thoughts into the idea that Esbjörn had a feeling or felt a vibration of sorts in his destiny and hence this music is a surge, a rush of adrenaline, a mount into new creative areas that he, that they were able to conquer. My dad was more daring in suggesting that you can't possibly forge such a high-concept album, hinting thematically at blood cells and all, not to mention the weirdly surreal music in itself, without any implication behind it: an illness sadly well known by and influencing the artist's mind. Again, I don't believe we can tell for sure how much of the album's design happens to be fabricated. But the music still stands as testimony. Such ravishing, experimental and confounding music. Premonition: Earth, as the first strong experience on the album, is a pure energy blast, slowly spiking up to intense, taxing heights, climaxing with ominous, deafening heartbeat-like rhythms, before vaporizing into broken soundforms..."

===

Several days later, 'round midnight, thirteen great spirits gathered at the town's Auditorium Hall, whose entrance doors seemed to have been forced open, their appearance taking the Host by surprise, who had been long waiting there, summoned by someone without much explanation. Some of these spirits were assumed to be dead for quite some time, which was also a bit surprising. But never mind that, for what great spirits they were to behold! Miles Davis, wearing his yellow striped crazypants and glasses the size of a visor, bobbing his head in his swagger; Billie Holiday, as mysterious as ever, talking with her agent on the phone, her face and moving lips shadowed beneath her veiled hat; Charles Mingus, dumping his instrument on a front row chair to refill his pipe; Hiromi Uehara, hoping nimbly on to the stage, looking excited and anxious, although from her looks you might have rather said she looked like she'd been woken up by a tornado - or, wait, I guess that's her hairdo.

Socky, the Host's friend, appeared from the rear side of the concert hall and sat down next to him, pointing with his hands at the marvel. 'Well. What do you think? Isn't this stupendous? I mean, look at all these figures. So many legends!' The Host applauded for a bit and then resumed to read his diary notes.

'Hold on, where's Monk?’ asked Socky.
'He told me you called him out', said Béla Fleck, also sitting down to tune his instrument, 'but he couldn't show up, so he asked me to step in'.
'We don't need him, anyway', shouted Miles from the stage. "Though I must say, some of you folks look just as weird to me, as well. Where's Chick? Where's Joe? Where's Wayne? Where's Dave-o? We could use Jimmy to shake it a bit as well. Hell, this ain't my bitchin' brew.'
'I brought shakers, Señor', intervened Tito Puente. 'I have it all in my kit. Maracas, timbales, penderetas, cajónes...'
'Yeah man, I don't really groove with that funk much', replied Miles on a snarky tone. 'I think mambo lessons are up in Elgar Room, further down the corridor.'
'Charming as always, Miles', remarked Mingus between interrupted puffs.
'Who there!’ jumped Miles.
'Remember me? waved Mingus from his seat. 'It's me, Charles. Yeah, Mingus!'
'Ooh hey Ming!’ chuckled Miles. 'Didn't see you there. Sup. John by any chance here as well?'
'da Trane is here, no worries', answered Coltrane, showing up from behind the stage curtain, as he was inspecting everything around.
'Now that's more like it', said Miles. 'How bout we hit a fast bop? Fats, you too. Let's jam it.'
'Think you can keep up?’ interjected Navarro.
'Chick isn't here?’ exclaimed Hiromi. 'That makes me sad.'
'Look at all these instruments', said Coltrane, string along the stage.
'Buttons!!’ squealed Hiromi, playing with a microKORG.
'It's like they were set up for all of us', added Coltrane.
'Oh good, cause I left Rusty at home, to be honest', replied Miles.
'No need, I'm good', said Chris Potter, unpacking his tenor.
'Want to play Linus and Lucy at four hands, Vince?’ asked Hiromi, but Guaraldi was a bit too serious to take that request.
'Oh no, I forgot my flugelhorn!’ bellowed Bill Dixon.
'I wouldn't mind blowing someone's horn, if you know what I mean', whispered Ornette from... actually, you couldn't really tell where he was from the seats.
'Wow, that's not creepy at all, man', shuddered Miles.
'Oh heavens no', cried Billie Holiday. 'I'm in no shape to sing tonight, I mean, just look at the weather outside, I could very well have caught a cold on my way here.'
'Ooooh the weather outside is fuuhhrrighhtful', Buble started crooning.
'Oh good lord', moaned Billie back at him.
'My dear pubescent friend, are you lost", asked Dixon, looking just as disconcerted.
'Hello', answered Miles when his mobile rang, after which he suddenly looked more concerned, hearing the voice at the other end, and stuttering.
'Teo? Uhm...' He paused for a bit, then said 'New phone, who dis.'
'Why are we here, anyway?' asked Coltrane.

The Host was ready to say something about that, though merely to wonder himself about the same issue, when Socky stepped in, saying 'Good question' and trying to shake off a shade of his usual ;feb; grin, before addressing everyone in a more relaxed and former way. 'Welcome everyone, wow, what an ensemble, I'm thrilled to be in your presence and I'm sure our Host is just as excited to meet you all. But before I'll give him the opportunity to mingle with you, a few things to clarify. Indeed you were summoned here tonight to perform a bit, share some stories, and give us a taste of what jazz was back in the days or still is nowadays. And sure enough, the Host is the best person to hear you out and guide you in practice.'

'Uhm, hi', mumbled the Host from his seat. 'I'm not really a conductor, though. I can't even improvise a tune much. I'm as stiff as it can get behind a keyboard.'
'Cheer up, man, all you need is some simple do-re-mi and a touch of Beethoven with a big of extra swing in it', said Guaraldi.
'You just need to rip it man', proclaimed Ornette. 'Punch those keys till they bleed.'
'All of the technique doesn't matter... only if the feeling is right', added Coltrane wisely.
'The fuego inside you...’ said Tito, 'that's the most important thing. Jazz is joy.'
'Jazz is a beautiful way of breathing. To play it is to mean it', ruminated Dixon with a solemn look behind his shades.
'Jazz is Mingus', boasted Mingus whilst launching another smoke cloud in the air.

'Well, hmm', noted Socky afterwards, 'that is indeed a bit of a predicament. But worry not, fellow stars, for I have managed to summon a good backup, just in case. You'll be thrilled to-'

Just then, the hallway door burst open and a slim, shadowy figure stormed through it, headed straight up, hardly acknowledging the Host and Socky on his way there, whizzed with a feral, but noiseless pace and without saying anything to anyone and left his hat and coat on a hanger nearby. Tall, late fifties, black T-shirt, black slacks, black shoes. Only then, as he climbed up, did each of his steps suddenly start to echo like the deep thud of a bass drum, until he went all the way to the center of the stage, in front of the conductor's stand. He stopped and gazed staidly at every musician currently on stage, his straight, unyielding back turned at the audience of two and at every musician still seated behind.

'Everyone this is-', Socky started saying, until the person interrupted him with a swift clench of his hand.
'Well then', the person, namely Terence Fletcher, started speaking, 'look at all these big faces here. You ready to play some old time classics or what? If you can still play, that is...'
Everyone looked bemused.
'Oh, don't look at me like that', carried on Fletcher, screwing his eyes at the rest and his mouth arching ever so slightly into a grin. 'You may be brilliant, or think you are, but form doesn't last beyond time. Heck, it may not even last between two takes. You need to be on top of your game and you need to prove yourselves, even tonight. So bring it.' Then he finally turned around and snapped at the others, 'Do you need an invitation to get up on the stage, do I look like your escort and cue giver to you or what! There are only two sightseers at my show tonight and that's Chopin and Rushboy over there, the rest of you, move! You too, Daddy of the Cool, get in place', he said to Miles, who was prancing in the background during all this.
The musicians in the back reluctantly followed up on the stage. 'This is certainly exciting, isn't it?’ Socky asked the Host, taking a seat next to him again.
'Do we even have enough players for this?’ asked Fletcher, 'or the right ones, for that matter? I'm seeing so many reeds sticking their neck in here, my god, it feels like I walked in to a marching band rehearsal. Compared to what... wait, really, no bones? How are we supposed to play without any bones?'
Nobody really bothered to answer him that.
'Potter', Fletcher went on, 'are you sure you didn't mistake the room? Or even the game, perhaps? You look a bit non-fiction to me.'
'Hey man', replies Chris Potter, 'I can play, that's all I know.'
'Barely, sneered Fletcher back. 'Who else? Well, at least we have Michelin Mascot on the bass...’ a remark which certainly didn't look like Mingus was pleased with. 'Wha... uh, seriously, no guitar either?'
Fleck took that spot and waved his hand at Fletcher. 'Yeah?’ Fletcher asked.
'I can cover that', Fleck explained.
'With what?’ Fletcher asked again in disbelief.
'Well, the banjo, if I may, can have a much more lush and vibrant palette than-'
'I'm now going to pretend I didn't ask that question', Fletcher terminated that speech.
'All ready here at the keys', Hiromi signaled, with Guaraldi still sort of reluctant to go ahead with all this, nevertheless taking second chair near her.
'We'll see about that', Fletcher shrugged it off. 'Drums!'
'Ready!’ shouted Tito with a big smile on his face. Fletcher just sighed and mumbled 'You're no Buddy Rich, that's for sure...'
'Uhm, excuse me, are we playing something that includes me?’ inquired Billie Holiday, suddenly wanting to sing.
'Maybe later, sweetheart', answered Fletcher. 'See, Bubbly there knows better than to ask.'
'Augh', shouted Billie. 'Oppression! Men are scum!!’ she kept yelling, then stormed off in the background. Buble just took a step back behind the band, as well, I suppose.
Fletcher, meanwhile, was still shaking his head at the sight of this rather disjoined, imperfect, unbalanced ensemble. 'I don't get it man. This really should have been a Speed game or something', he declared. 'Whose wise idea was it to bring only 13 players at a big band rehearsal, anyway?'
All eyes dropped on the Host, who shrank on his chair and took refuge in his diary book.
'...then again, it's not my problem if others aren't professional', Fletcher continued. 'I'm still gonna make sure this rehearsal works. Alright, then, everyone. I think we can manage it decently with the brass, bass and drums, at least. So, let's say, 'Whiplash'.'

Everyone, except the laid off singers, sitting in the back, was on their spot, dead-still, eyes glued on Fletcher’s every move. Coltrane on soprano, Coleman on alto and Potter on tenor, the three trumpeters behind them, Tito on the kit, Hiromi claws sharpened towards the piano, Fleck on the silly banjo seat. Fletcher was ready with his hand in the air and then, with simple flicks, whispered 'Five, six, and...'

The music started playing and it didn't take much to realize it sounded like a hot mess. Hand waved, fist clenched, and Fletcher brought it all to a halt. 'Sounds rusty, let's try again. Five, six, and...'
Not much better the second time. Something definitely sounded off. Hand waved, fist clenched, and Fletcher even paused a bit before saying the words. 'Not quite my tempo.' Hand, flick...
Same stuff, quickly stopped by Fletcher. 'Not quite my anything, actually. Pitches are off, rhythm is out of sync, and I’m hearing notes that shouldn't be there. Get it together. Ok, one more time. Five, six, and...'
Nope. 'Who's doing this?!’ Fletcher asked, getting testier with every attempt. He looked menacingly at each and every one, then raised his hand again. 'Five, six, and...'
Wah-wah-wawa-splat. 'Are you out of your fucking minds?! Trane, man, are you out of tune? 2.5 stars, really! Sitar sitter, is that really the suave sound that you so praised? Singers back there, are you trying to sabotage this band by whistling over the melody? 'Cause I swear to God...' But they didn't really look at him, nor did anyone in the ensemble.

The Host caught sight of two or three musicians exchanging looks and smirks, subtle enough for nobody else or even Fletcher, poised in front of all of them, to notice, but instead of saying something, he finally found an interesting angle to make out of it and kept on witnessing how Fletcher would flick at them to play, then clench at them to freeze, over and over, saying 'Dragging', then 'Rushing', then 'Draggin' again, then 'False notes' and so on...Finally, one retry seemed like it was starting to gel together, as Fletcher didn't interfere anymore and let the music flow, even giving signs of nodding and moving along the stage in the rhythm of the music. But then, just as it seemed like he was going to turn the pages on his stand, he instead grabbed the binded sheets and their covers and started throwing them at the musicians.

Everyone froze, shell-shocked, total silence on stage, although Miles was about to let out a 'What in the fu...'
'You think this is a joke?!’ Fletcher started yelling. "One of you is clearly dragging, one of you is clearly rushing, one of you may even be out of tune. Com'on, last chance, which one of you is it? Better yet, shouldn't you all try to figure that out and pluck the bitter weed from amongst you?'
The musicians started throwing looks at each other. The more this rehearsal would harrowingly go on without any resolution, the more suspicious they'd become of the others. Fletcher then cut the tension with another shriek: 'WHO IS IT? Lynch the fucker.'

The Host stood up and announced, 'Welcome to jazz mafia, everyone.'

It is now Day 1.
You have 48 hours to remove a bad player from the band.

[November]

Hello everyone.

[S~V~S]

Undead undead undead.... oh wait wrong Bela. Carry on.

[Paprika]

Coltrane why did you dismiss a subject of discussion?

Who's down to vote this man with me?

[Towny McTownface]

Coltrane why did you dismiss a subject of discussion?

Who's down to vote this man with me?

I dig your line of thought. I do, I do. But I'm going to throw my vote at Billy Boy Dixon at the start. That cat was the first (and for a while, the only) one of us to do something the host wanted. Not a bad thing on its own. Waving that fact in our faces in an attempt to gain favor with the host, however, is brown-nosing. Can't stand for that here. No siree.

[Akemi Homura]

I'm here!

[1337]

Hi all!!

[nutellaphant]

Coltrane why did you dismiss a subject of discussion?

Who's down to vote this man with me?

I dig your line of thought. I do, I do. But I'm going to throw my vote at Billy Boy Dixon at the start. That cat was the first (and for a while, the only) one of us to do something the host wanted. Not a bad thing on its own. Waving that fact in our faces in an attempt to gain favor with the host, however, is brown-nosing. Can't stand for that here. No siree.

I hope you dont throw votes at presidential candidates. You'll pribably get arrested

[Paprika]

Coltrane why did you dismiss a subject of discussion?

Who's down to vote this man with me?

I dig your line of thought. I do, I do. But I'm going to throw my vote at Billy Boy Dixon at the start. That cat was the first (and for a while, the only) one of us to do something the host wanted. Not a bad thing on its own. Waving that fact in our faces in an attempt to gain favor with the host, however, is brown-nosing. Can't stand for that here. No siree.

If I noticed that I was the only player who actually read the rules in a 3 hour span of activity, I would've probably stated the same, or at least nodded in the host's direction. How is that alignment indicative?

Do you think baddies generally are the 1st responders to a thread going up, mid, or last? What makes you think this?

[Towny McTownface]

Coltrane why did you dismiss a subject of discussion?

Who's down to vote this man with me?

I dig your line of thought. I do, I do. But I'm going to throw my vote at Billy Boy Dixon at the start. That cat was the first (and for a while, the only) one of us to do something the host wanted. Not a bad thing on its own. Waving that fact in our faces in an attempt to gain favor with the host, however, is brown-nosing. Can't stand for that here. No siree.

If I noticed that I was the only player who actually read the rules in a 3 hour span of activity, I would've probably stated the same, or at least nodded in the host's direction. How is that alignment indicative?

Do you think baddies generally are the 1st responders to a thread going up, mid, or last? What makes you think this?

Well, it's no more or less indicative than your reasoning for voting for John.

[Towny McTownface]

Don't mind me, babe. I'm just free-styling and waiting to see what comes of it.

[Fuskdall]

Coltrane why did you dismiss a subject of discussion?

Who's down to vote this man with me?

I dig your line of thought. I do, I do. But I'm going to throw my vote at Billy Boy Dixon at the start. That cat was the first (and for a while, the only) one of us to do something the host wanted. Not a bad thing on its own. Waving that fact in our faces in an attempt to gain favor with the host, however, is brown-nosing. Can't stand for that here. No siree.

I can get down with this attitude. I actually did read the rules first, they mostly caught my attention because of the crazy numbering system. Felt like somethin' sketchy was going down, so I looked deeper into it.

Point being, I felt good about seeing the jazz hands thing before moving on, and I would have appreciated no discussion of it at all in the thread. That way, I get to show that I really passed the test, instead of just reading about it in the thread from some blabbermouth who can't keep their cool for five minutes.

Does it make him bad? No. But I take things personal sometimes. Bill Dixon

[ika]

Hmm.... slow start to a game IMO

[November]

Well, we already see 2 people in the game. Fun.

[Principal Skinner]

Ahh, what'sa matter Miles? Vinny? A little to free for y'all?

[sprityo]

Oh good I didn't miss much, being there's only two pages, I can maybe scrap somethin together

[Fuskdall]

Well, we already see 2 people in the game. Fun.

Two people? I saw ika, but I didn't see the other one. Assuming you're talking about folks who let it slip who they really are, that is.

Ahh, what'sa matter Miles? Vinny? A little to free for y'all?

Hey, you wanna keep playin' it off like it ain't no thang, all the power to ya. As far as I'm concerned, you didn't even hear what I had to say.