Meowselsworth's "Who Goes There?" (Inactive)

Game Master Meowselsworth

A mafia game themed after The Thing.


51 to 100 of 431 << first < prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | next > last >>

Bartender

Jimmy scowls. "Don't worry, Tharp. You're safe on both counts. First, you can't fix it until I clean it up, and I can't remember if vomit was on the sanctioned list. So that's going to wait until I can look up protocol. Second, you're not a scientist. I think the thing to do is lock all the scientists in a room together. That way at least the rest of us will be safe."

The Exchange

Avistan Tharp wrote:
Russ Curtis wrote:
....maybe it was pizza?
" MURDERED IN A SYSTEMATIC LYNCHING BY MY COLLEAGUES!!!"

"Surely sir you do not mean to imply that we all will turn on each other at the slightest perception. Did we learn nothing from the witch trials?"


At the recording Clive blanches with shock at what he hears. "He's not even annotating paragraph numbers and breaks." the nervous man mutters to himself.

Duke Leto Atredies wrote:

"So we are dealing with multiple things and they can be any person or animal, tell me is there a rodent problem here?"

"I'm pretty sure there isn't, or they'd have eaten all my lovely cheese samples. Meowselsworth was very good for protecting them, I just hope the poor kitty found some piece." Clive grumbles, for he was the one whom requested there to be some sort of security cat provided to ensure his samples were safe. And it was a strange day when he found the cat delivered in the weird titanium crate with strange writings on the side & very unusual drinking bowl (almost like a helmet).

However Clive's concern doesn't go as far as Marco's corpse, for the scientist was a known lactose intolerant!


"And Mr. Smith your job is to ensure everything is spotless! A job you're usually excellent at... not suggest us intelligencia are locked up in a Think-Tank! That's the sort of thing the governments do...." The theoretical cheesicist is amazed at the idea.

"But Which Trials are you talking about, Duke?"


Male Human Security specialist 0

Don't worry about the security cameras. I'm in charge of those. Made sure they're running too. I'll just go to the security office and we'll figure this damn thing out.

Dash goes to the only room in the station itself built with the same level of access security as the outside doors of the station themselves. He confidently swipes his card in the titanium secured door 's access control lock and waits for the security light above the lock to turn green.

It stays red.

Paling Dash swipes the card a few more times, the last attempt being a panicked slide that wouldn't have opened the door even if his card was working.

Can't get to the videos. Damn room is locked. I'm the only one who's supposed to have access! That's where the tazer and the tranq gun is too! Turning around the young man shouts. What the **** is going ON?


I did it all for the penguins.

Sven watches the growing insanity (and hears the increasing volume) and makes a decision. Grabbing little brass hammer hanging on a chain, he strikes the glass cover on a box labeled "BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY". The brass key inside fits neatly in the lock of a cabinet labeled "EMERGENCY SUPPLIES". He opens the cabinet, grabs one of the bottles, and pours a shot of whisky, which he shoves towards Dash. "Here. I'm not much of a drinker, but this can take the edge off panic. On the verge of which you are teetering, my friend. I understand. It's tough on authoritarian types when they aren't in control."

Setting the bottle back in the cabinet, he continues, "Scientists aren't all geneticists, and people who study genetics aren't all scientists, you know. In my required genetics course - just a survey-level class that was open to non-majors - there were no fewer than five English majors studying genetics so they could write popular science books and columns, and DNA-based murder mysteries. I could build you a model of a DNA molecule out of the supplies in this cabinet - the cocktail straws, cherries, and onions being the most useful - but couldn't manipulate a gene sequence to save my life."

He pauses a moment, then continues, "Besides, we're going to need to think to get out of this. Three of us are not who we seem. But they're good enough copies to walk around and talk and act like the person they replaced - poor Meows! So we need to figure out who they are before they kill the rest of us... and before the planes return at sunrise. Because if they get out into the population..."

"But look, I'll take a chance here. The three of you are obviously intelligent. You're also a new lifeform here. There's no reason we can't live together peaceably if you stop ripping people to shreds, right? So let's talk about it and negotiate a peace accord. None of the rest of us want to go the way Marco did. And I'm sure you don't want to go the way Meows did. If you can hold yourselves back from the rending and tearing, why can't we figure out a way to live together?"


Sven wrote:
...In my required genetics course...
Sven wrote:
There's no reason we can't live together peaceably

"So, you've studied genetics and you claim that you want us to live together peacefully after butchering Marco. That confirms it, you're the creature, someone hook him up to those electrodes and let's blast that tentacled monstrosity from this facility." Wilkens stands by the machine ready to throw the switch.

Wilkens votes for lynching Sven.

BAM! nothin' like dropping lynch votes in the first 24 hours. We can change those through the week right Meows? And this game will require people play their assigned roles and not derail it for alien love affairs?


I did it all for the penguins.

"Thanks so much for backing up the "live peacably together" proposal, Doc," Sven rejoins dryly, "No creature in their right mind is going to step forward now that they know your intentions." He scoots over to a table, pulls out a notebook, and starts writing. "Violence is always the solution for you establishment types."


Female Helmet Cat

There is no lovers role in this game. Creatures can unanimously surrender, after which the government butchers them for study. I highly recommend playing your roles because the game ends when one side is eradicated. You win even in death if your side wins, because it means your sacrifice was worth it.
You can change votes up until round end.


Mike looks in surprise at Doctor Wilkens words and vote. "I guess that is what he was implying," Mike says to the Duke, "and it did not take long for that implication to bear itself out."

Climbing upon his imaginary soapbox, Mike begins to pontificate, "There is truth to Sven's words, almost every University has some level of genetics course available to non-majors, however, would the expedition hire someone as a geneticist with only a couple classes as their background?" Mike pauses briefly mussing about government decisions and the likelihood of them doing something like that before continuing, "But to the heart of the matter here, peaceful coexistence and if it is possible. I agree with the Duke and Sven on a basic level, we can not fall to our baser instincts and have this turn into a witch hunt. I do not want to die, slain by these "monsters", but death from popular vote does not appeal to me either. That said, Doctor Wilkens is correct that these beings have already shown their willingness to commit violence. And Sven, who amongst us has the authority to negotiate with these creatures? I am sure all of the creatures, dead or alive, will be carted off by the government to Area 51 for study. If the creatures got any sort of memories from their victims they will know this. After all, look what they did to that poor little creature in ET." As his rant comes to a close Mike looks about suddenly embarrassed, mumbles an apology and heads off to the corner for a Diet Coke and a smoke.


"I hope they don't take us all to Area 51!" Clive says wide-eyed, "Then again, we could follow Mulders' footsteps and maybe even see Ms. Scully. There's 2 flaws I believe in Scens' scientific reasoning, firstly we have not enough food to last for many months, I suppose we could find some bird meat outside. And secondly distributing alcohol is wrong without the correct license and even then it kills brain-cells...." He pauses caught in a thought.

"That's not a bad plan Sven, if the creatures cannot tolerate fire in their brainstem, what about the heat of a scotch?"

The Exchange

"The philosopher says the only certainty is that we know nothing. Perhaps then wine is in order it is said to contain the truth, in vineo veritas."


I did it all for the penguins.

"Clive, I don't think ordinary people would tolerate Marco's rig any better than a monster, so booze isn't going to be very telling. Good thought, though. I wish there was a way to tell at the macroscopic level. If we had a known subject and time to experiment, we could probably come up with something. But here... heck, it's hard enough to differentiate between some common species, much less a creature that's made to be a mimic." The ornithologist shrugs. "And much as I hate to say it, Mike, you're probably right. The goodwill of 99 people means nothing beside the savagery of one, because that's all it takes to kill something. So much for balance - evil sure seems to have the advantage, despite numbers being in the favor of good, eh?"

He continues scratching away in his notebook, keeping an ear open for the conversation.


"Out for blood already, are we?" Alexander says, glowering at the Doctor. "A geneticist might have done the killing, but if we're gonna just kill anyone who's ever flipped through a genetics textbook, then we'd might as well just throw ourselves under a bus. Survival 101: You don't get your greatest assets killed. That includes the geneticists, and well, me of course. You'd all be dead without me here."


Bartender

"When Marco said geneticist he obviously meant someone with a PhD. God knows that the support staff is invisible to you guys until something goes wrong. Whoever did this wears a white coat.

"Tharp, Curtis and me are clear. Dash too. The rest of you are all suspect."

The Exchange

"Balderdash! Anyone who claims himself exempt from suspicion is suspect in my view, and I have worked with the investigators of Scotland Yard."


Bartender

"Just crawl into a bottle, old man. That was the best idea you've had. "

Nothing personal, Kenderkin. Jimmy's an ass.


"Don't try to fool us Jimmy, we've all seen the Philosopher Kings. You sneaky janitors eavesdrop on lectures and read the white boards at night while humbling walking the halls of academia invisible to the privileged students and professors in their ivory towers. Your kind embody all manners of wisdom and intelligence while maintaining an unobtrusive and nonchalant demeanor. No, you are certainly not in the clear."


Shooken up from the entire event, and the recording Elora blinks and listens to the others arguing and pointing fingers. "Marco, and poor Meows..."

She sighs and shakes her head slowly "I think you may be overlooking something Mr. Smith. Yes, one of the creatures Marco confirmed is a geneticist, but his recording indicated four specimens, the geneticist and Meows imposter only makes two. We still have two creatures completely unknown, they could be any one of us, that includes foul tempered janitors, security officers, mechanics... err Mr. Curtis" She hesitates a moment realizing she's not entirely sure what Russ' role actually is, then continues "And I'm afraid even culinary artists." She wipes the front of her apron causing a small cloud of flour to emerge from the garment. "I'd much rather we stick together we outnumber these creatures, but if we split the group it'll be to their advantage, especially if you're giving us a false sense of security by thinking no one without a PhD could be a monster. Let's not spread ourselves thin, if these things are looking to kill us all, I'd say the only thing stopping them is that there's more of us than them."


Mike groans at Elora's words, "You are right, only one of the remaining three was identified as a geneticist. So we are back to the beginning, any one of you could be a monster."

With a defeated shrug Mike makes his way to the table and pours himself a stiff shot. "I swore off alcohol years ago, but it seams a bit silly not to take the edge off now." He looks about gloomily before straightening up and swearing softly, "No dammit, I will not give up so easily!! We will live and be free of this place!"

Lighting a cigarette he looks at the group with a renewed sense of resolve. "The way I see it we have two options before us, either we vote to "remove" members of our community in an attempt to eliminate the bad guys or we stick together and use numeric advantage to keep us safe until we figure out who the bad guys are." Mike pauses for a moment to see if everyone is in general agreement before continuing. "I tend to think mathematically, which would mean I would want to take the voting option because when you run the numbers that is the correct mathematical formula. However, inexplicably, I find myself leaning toward the option of trying to keep our numbers while those with the skills needed attempt to verify who the bad guys are. I will not say that is the correct answer, I would need to sit down and whip up a quick data model taking into consideration all the variables before I would go that far, but that is what my gut is telling me is the course of action to follow."


Cooper wrote:
...I would need to sit down and whip up a quick data model taking into consideration all the variables...

"No you don't, there is only one way for us to kill the creatures. The longer we wait the more people will die horribly like Marco and the creatures will have the advantage. Only the creatures will suggest we don't jolt anyone, it's the only way they get out of here. Sorry folks, it's Russian roulette, and Cooper is next after Sven. Now bring that penguin lover over here." Wilkens looks around at the disgusted faces in the room. "See, this is why EvOil is a multibillion dollar company and your lot is crying for a larger minimum wage, you got no initiative. Now roll up your sleeves, we got some brains to fry."


Male Human Security specialist 0

Yeah. There's only one egghead monster! Far as I'm concerned. All the rest of you could be one of these things. Dash shouts finally catching up with what the rest are saying.


I did it all for the penguins.

"Let's see, three monsters... creatures... gosh, that's so judgemental. Three non-native life forms. Yeah, that's better. Anyway, there are three non-native life forms hiding amidst nine humans. If you were one of them, what would you want? To reduce the imbalance, obviously, because 3:1 is pretty poor odds. Try something, you'd be overwhelmed with rather upset native life forms."

Sven has been jotting in his notebook as he talks. "Now, if you wanted to even up the odds, what would you suggest?" He looks up at the group and starts ticking off items on his fingers.

"One: separate out the people who might be able to tell what you are from those who can't. You know that one of the geneticists is a non-native life form. Geez, that's awkward NNLF. Nunnlif. There we go. So if you're a nunnlif, you might think that locking all the known scientists together would be a good thing. That would give the nunnlif - if it's a scientist - a shot at the "eggheads", as you so kindly categorize us. And it would keep the person or persons who might be able to do a DNA analysis away from the other nunnlifs. That suggestion is really suspicious to me. It's also not very smart, since any of us could be a geneticist. A few months of working at 1-800-WHOS-DADDY could give you enough experience to run a sequencer. And with the systems down and secure files locked away, we can't peruse resumes to see who's handy with DNA. Fortunately for them."

"And two: be very eager to toss people into the brain fryer. After all, choosing randomly, you have a 75% chance of choosing a normal human. So yeah, let's start frying people right away! Because that probably increases the odds for the nunnlifs. Good idea, Doctor. Just what the real humans want. NOT."

The Exchange

"Problem is the geneticist had best work in secret, identifying themselves to the group would risk them as being the non native life forms next target."

The Duke tiring of his cigar produces an eelskin pouch of tobacco and a pipe from his belt.


Mike looks in horror at Dr. Wilkens when his name is mentioned as a possible candidate for vote, color draining from his face. "I understand what you are saying sir, in fact I mentioned that what you suggest is the most logical course of action mathematically. However, what if by chance one of our geneticists is selected to be eliminated? In that scenario the odds of human survival in this lab are drastically reduced, and Sven's NNLFs will have had nothing to do with it!!!"
Mike takes a few moments to collect his thoughts, aided by another shot of whatever bottle is close by, and continues, "As I already stated, I believe our best chance is to let the geneticists work in secret and try to figure this out. Once they are fairly certain they know the identities, they make themselves public and we use our superior numbers to subdue these creatures. Until then Dash can keep us safe. I know I once thought the only reason he was hired was to bust me for smoking indoors, but I have to trust he was hired because he is a capable security agent that can keep us safe now that he is aware of the danger." Once finished Mike sits back down and sends a hopeful, supportive glance towards Dash. "Or," he says we a shrug "We can go all lord of the flies up in here and let God sort us out." After filling out all the proper forms of course! he thinks sarcastically to himself lighting yet another cigarette.


"Yeah. When my unit and I were stranded, we didn't need to start killing each other until after people started to starve," Alexander says matter-of-factly, as though his little tidbit were somehow relevant. "I hate to say it, but we're better off just sitting on our asses than we are frying people right off the bat."


I did it all for the penguins.

"I don't know about that. If we could identify a nunnlif with a high degree of certainty, we should... I can't believe I'm saying this... take care of them. Otherwise, they're going to pick us off as we nod off and the odds grow ever more in their favor."


Bartender

"Mike, I wouldn't make arguments based on usefulness if I were you. The computers don't mean a thing now. You're baggage."

"But someone in front of you in the useless department. Dash's security system is actually getting in the way. And he couldn't even protect you from your own cigarettes."

"Nothing personal. Just saying."


"Well Hell, Dash I did not mean to imply any such thing. I was trying to build your confidence and let you know I for one trust in you abilities. Honest to God."

"I agree Sven, once we identify them with a high degree of certainty. Heck, with any kind of certainty. Currently the only vote cast is relying on the certainty of your, Sven's, abhorrence to violence. I guess that is a better reason than just flipping a coin, but I for one don't like it."

"Again, to be perfectly clear. I suggest we hold off on voting to eliminate fellow coworkers, giving the geneticists among us a chance to gather information. Once they feel they have a reasonable belief of who is an imposter, the geneticists reveal themselves, we subdue the imposters and go all shock-tastic upon them with Marco's contraption over there. I am very pro delivering death to those who deserve it, but only one we spend some time researching who actually deserves it."


Bartender

Jimmy slaps his mouth shut. He shuffles over to Meowselworth's remains. After taking a glass stirring rod from an Erlenmeyer flask, he pokes the dead kitty with it. Apparently satisfied he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and begins taking photos of the cat, concentrating on the tentacled eyes.


Female Helmet Cat

Please remember to occasionally check discussion for rules clarification. I've heard some people remark they did not receive notifications of new posts, and I want everyone to be working off of the same information.


Research Station Mechanic

"Jimmy, I trust those photos are for research and evidence purposes only. We wouldn't want this Top Secret leaked due to your well known social media addiction."

The Exchange

"I personally have found that we are out of communicator range. even my personal beacon is not operational. We may or may not survive this my friends, I would hope that a peaceful conclusion could come, but I see no way for this to happen."


"Damn shame. Otherwise we could broadcast this live, so the whole world could see!"


Bartender

Jimmy glowers at the maintenance chief. Tharp just made the list.

"Somebody will see them someday, even if I can't phone them out now. Maybe I'll be famous."

Social media addiction. Nice, Doug.


Male Human Security specialist 0

Don't like being called useless Jimmy. As security chief I authorize you to clean up this mess!


Bartender

"At least you delegate like a champ, Dash."

Jimmy slips his phone back in his pocket and reaches for a box of rubber gloves. The box is tightly packed and he has to tug the first one out, but friction and the pressure in the box force out three more. He scoops them up, puts two into the hip pocket of his grey overalls, and drags the others on.

"And now I am invisible."


"The longer we stay alive the better, at least whilst the odds are significantly in our favour. For our geneticist is better than the creatures one - the human will gain valuable info, whilst most likely the creature would only find out whose human. And even if he finds important info, he can only use it to instigate a lynching! OR have a like quarter chance of killing someone." Clive ponders.

"Although science is 100% accurate, as my experiments into the precise melting points into cheese have told me..." he looks to the wall slightly drawn by the horrors of 'lab-work'; "Practical science doesn't have enough veracity."

He walks over to pat the Duke on the back in commiserations of his broken communicator. "Sabotage or just the weather?"

The Exchange

"The beacon seems intact but it has no contact with anything."

The Duke clicks the large green disk in the center of his chest....

It lights up and blinks slowly, but no sound, not even static comes out of it.....no OnStar operator


"That's strange!?!" Clive says, implying in multiple ways & gets out his palmtop. Looking at it, despite it's lack of any wi-fi signal a box pops up.

"A tweet from Trump; 'Angela Merkel; And-ela UnMerkun I say'. Clive gasps at the criticism of the German Chancellor and types a retort which is lost in the ether.


Male Human Security specialist 0

It's sabotage! All sabotaged! Security door locked. Everything! Dash starts to panic. Which one of you did all that? I'm ready to start burning something


"Rein it in, soldier! Central heating is still on. We don't need a bonfire... yet."


"I've seen you people work, slow as molasses and your conclusions are just as clear as molasses. Molasses I say! Dumb luck will carry us through and nothing else. Although all this chatter did stir up an idea, here we are expressing our views and interacting like normal folks, yet a few of us stand silently and observe, exactly what a creature would do that was trying to learn our nuances. You quiet ones are the most likely suspects, Curtis, Elora and Robert, get in the queue." Doc pats the machine for emphasis.

Wilkens changes his vote to Curtis

The Exchange

"The communication systems and my beacon are based upon satellite signals, and as far as we are it may be that we will have some time, days or a week at most with no signal, it has happened in other excursions in the past."

Offers a brandy to Dash.
"Here lad this will steady your nerves."


I did it all for the penguins.

"You might have to slap him, Duke. I've seen people do that in movies, and Dash looks pretty hysterical." Sven keeps jotting in his notebook as he provides this important information to Leto.


Research Station Mechanic
Doctor Wilkens wrote:

"...You quiet ones are the most likely suspects, Curtis, Elora and Robert, get in the queue." Doc pats the machine for emphasis.

Wilkens changes his vote to Curtis

Avistan becomes crossed at the Doctor's vote

"Russ Curtis is my closest companion at this facility and I will attest to his innocence. A vote for Curtis will be a vote against yourself!"

Mechanics stick together til the end!

Avistan Tharp votes to lynch Doctor Wilkens


Listening to the conversation Elora raises her eyebrows a bit and smiles slightly "Sven dear the effort is very sweet, but these Nunnlifs have already brutally murdered Marco, and I expect are just waiting for an opportunity to do the same to the rest of us... The time to worry about hurting their feelings may already be past."

The baker frowns towards Doctor Wilkens as he starts point fingers again "Well sir, some of us are expressing our views, and some are still coming to terms with what has happened, or just not so quick to flap their gums. You on the other hand seem overly eager to get someone, anyone into the rig as soon as possible. You don't seem to have any regard for human life, it's not so easy for all of us to kill our friends and colleagues you know. Also we know there's only three Nunnlifs and you already have at least five people in this killing queue of yours, are you just going to randomly accuse each of us in turn with some another flimsy excuse?"


Quote:
are you just going to randomly accuse each of us in turn with some another flimsy excuse?

"Yes, yes I am. Speaking of which, it's good to see some backbone from a few of you, but still nothing substantial from the Robert fellow, step on up old man."

Wilken changes his vote to The Red Robert


Bartender
Avistan Tharp wrote:

...

Mechanics stick together til the end!
...

While janitors remain an underclass, even to machanics. Beware Tharp, the hoi polloi shall rally! The proletariat shall rise!

Jimmy scoops up Meowselworth and gently deposits, him/her/it(?) on a stainless steel tray on a lab cart. He pushes the cart toward the chest high cylindrical LN2 cooled freezer in the corner.

"I'll just deposit this in the deep freeze."


Research Station Mechanic

Avistan comments in a very monotone sarcastic voice

"Well it's clear to see Doctor that you are evidently just caught up in the moment. It's not difficult to understand your suspicions with the current situation at hand."

He then turns to pick up The Employee Manual that was ripped from his hands and discarded on the floor, purposely bumping The Red Robert with his shoulder in passing.

"Nothing personal old man. I'd stick my neck out for you too but The Employee Handbook states" He says while fingering through the now open manual "Eccentric Scotts who disregard the written rules and run their family's telephone pole company into the ground are to be deemed suspicious at all times" or something along those lines."

Avistan then sticks his hand out to perform the super secret Mechanics only fist bump with his partner Russ Curtis.

Whispers to Russ Curtis:
"Saved your ass this time but there is no telling what might happen with all these loose cannons running their mouths. Just you remember who your friends are."

Avistan withdraws his vote against Doctor Wilkens

51 to 100 of 431 << first < prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | next > last >>
Community / Forums / Online Campaigns / Play-by-Post / Meowselsworth's "Who Goes There?" All Messageboards

Want to post a reply? Sign in.