I might've also rolled to see whom I attacked ¬_¬
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Good Game :D
"I still cannot believe you guys think I'd be stupid enough to attack Russ after he pointed the finger of suspicion at me..." He slurs.
"Just make sure you protect the brightest and richest, Alex. Seems to be the way." Clive says having another long drink and starting to enjoy it even if his words are slurring slightly.
"If so then killing me now....would be silly, Sir. For if you're so sure.... either your a mutant geneticist (and I'm sure you're not that) or you want to give the nunliffs an advantage." Clive retorts, "For they are not so certain - thus maybe they will try to assassinate me, or try and work out my identity and thus we'd all save ourselves some time to try an calculate the real nunliffs by for whom they attack." He addresses the Duke directly. "Over the next few hours you'd be 'certain' of my identity and once you've lynched some of the real nunliffs and some of us are assassinated the pool will dwindle and you can be assured to try an lynch my innocent self rather than a real nunliff; Dash!"
"By the way, you do know I'm the only lead we've got? By killing me now it makes it easier for the nunlifs?" Clive declares with confirmation.
Clive chugs the drink, the looks down at the cup confused.... "Hang On, I'm the real Clive. Just because you want to fry me and pretend I'm a nunliff and not a real person.... I suppose celebrating you guys trying to fry someone before you've done it is a trifle gauche. Nearly as much as sharing a room with a sanitary engineer, I suppose - but then posh people do that." "Anyway about this frying of me, based up faulty science & vague assumptions.... it's complete poppy-cock." The drink seems to have made the cheese-head bold, where once he'd only post on the net.
"Kraft!!! Kraft!!! Those bunch of cheese hacks don't know a good cheese from a whiffy one! I'd bet their mothers smell of elderberries!!" Clive is shocked at Mikes denunciation and takes another swig from the bottle of medicinal testing alcohol that he's found in the laboratory.
"Well I know I'm human, I remember my childhood... the first time I had brie and a good Wensleydale. So I doubt I'm the monster, but I can see that you all want to lynch someone." Clive shakes his head sadly after having a sip of the alcohol. "That didn't seem to do anything really. Anyway what we certainly have to do is ensure that we don't lynch anyone that knows each others identities..." He pauses; "From my mind map, that indicates that the anyone with combat training should probably protect the Duke." He looks to Alexander with a nod. "Unless it's this permutation....hmmm..."
Clive gulps harshly at the accusations levelled against him; "Seems a lynching is a good idea after all. And seems like you want it to be me...." He looks over to Russes body sadly; "I'm certain he was a fine Scientist and that the methods in this dingy place are 100% accurate...." With a long pause; "A drink???" he asks softly.
"Sounds good, hopefully the someone will stop the nunliffs too. That'd be the only way that there's no deaths but, it'd be a 10% chance, also with a 30% chance they attack each other. Thus if there's no lynching that's a 1 in 3 chance that no-one dies and our geneticist gets more info...." Clive ponders trying his hardest to work out what's exactly going on.
"Well, like anything cheese should not be consumed to excess - In many ways it shouldn't be consumed at all - at least by those who cannot discern the specifics of the processes that go into it." Clive nearly starts to lecture on his favourite subject, though the niggling query about alcohol distracts him. "Avistan is correct, alcohol is generally a terrible idea, but maybe it'd be an interesting idea - especially a bit of wine, just as a cleansing agent." Clive ponders.
Thanks, it's post games evening & my slightly inebriated state might've been detrimental to solid gameplay :P
Clive lets Red Robert sit him on a stool and gets out his notebook; "I'm super sober, ne'er a drop touched my lips." He cocks his head; "Is it any good, I wonder?" He says softly after having been so sheltered and seems the situation has started to get to him. "Look here..." He gets out a netbook and starts to scribble a spider-diagram on it; "See there's a few permutations, some could identify a nunnliff whilst others, prove the masons. That is depending on what our remaining people say - I know Russ has been busy with the bucket."
"You're an Honourable man Duke, glad you've come to your senses. Now if we can work together, I'm sure it'll become obvious whom the nunnlifs are." Clive looks at Red Robert; "Whilst that taunt is an interesting ploy - I'd say, especially since you aren't in line for a lynching. It's either a bluff or a double bluff - I believe that the Protector should protect you, thus if you are one of them; well they cannot contact you & if you are not... well....though by me pointing it out it might make it less likely your focussed like poor Elora.... but by me pointing this out you might be, especially since the guardian won't (probably) listen to me.... no-one listens to me.... except my cheeses."
"No we're not! But Mike is right, evidence is essential. Science is more important than socio-economic status or corporate greed. EvOil is at fault here, it wouldn't surprise me if they send us here specifically to unearth the samples.... maybe they're formed from their own vile biological agents?" Clive says shocked, whilst hoping that Avistan is completely wrong. "Now for my earlier suggestion, I trust the Duke - even if he likes alcohol... a little too much."
After the shock slowly starts to wear off, Clive thinks.... "So we still have a doctor left, as well as a trained guard, they've information - experimental information so not as accurate as my pure theories - but shouldn't let anyone know their role." "If they've worked out a nunnlif then they'll just do the accusations, if it's one of us normal people then it doesn't matter - however if they've worked out a guardian or room-mate it could be valuable to let them know whom the geneticist is." "Thus I propose we state a person we 'trust' it may give someone an idea of either who they can work with? But would it give a clue if they get killed, that's the only risk..." Clive ponders his words running on too quick; "But if it enables some to find extra trusted people. And if it did paint a target then at least the guardian would know whom to protect."
"Sorry about that Dr Wilkens, I didn't want to attempt to tie the vote in case someone changed at the last second. Yours was the best way to try and rile up some emotion from the situation - just a pity it backfired." Clive says sadly as the corpse is removed.
"No, no, no...it shouldn't be like this!" Clive says continuing his pacing with a look of absolute terror on his face. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he's shocked at the sudden violence. "This is really bad, firstly we kill the Doctor! He may have been abrasive but... no the young geneticist dies without getting any research and the only other who knows any genetics is one of the creatures..." He's appalled at the desperation. "I guess this means that were in trouble - for the only way to gleam more information is through blood." The thought stops him in his tracks; "For a soldier could fortuitously protect us, though it'd have been best to help poor Elora. Thus our best course is surely to rely on the pair that know each others' safe - before the 'nunnlifs' get one of them or find out whom each other are?" He ponders sadly, looking around the room as one who isn't really engaged with reality rather a complex puzzle.
"Despite what the Doctor says about science being a trifle dangerous and manipulative, as much as any politician. Violence isn't the way... find data and them we work out a safe way to distribute it." Clive tries to stop any lynching of the doctor, or anyone really.
"You drank alcohol. That kills brain cells!" Clive tuts to Russ as he walks around the room to try and relieve the tension.
Leaning against a table indignant of the faux-post on his tablet, Clive is shocked at the vomiting and drinking moreso than the accusations flying around. Although there is one accusation that sticks in his craw; "Mr Sven, when you say they're sending "Non-Scientists" here - I take it you aren't talking about me! I'll have you know I'm written up in the Gouda Nuff Review for my paper on the carmelising point of Dutch cheese!"
"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.
"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?"
"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?"
"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?"
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.
"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!
He nods along as Jimmy quotes the correct clauses for the 'disposal of blood in workplace accident'. "You Clives' voice rises as this seems to be a greater affront than the dead body. Simply aghast the fromage-o-phile at the potential problems arising from that culinary mixture. He nearly starts hyperventilating and needs a sit-down.
Clive waddles into the room with his quick and purposeful short paces, however he's so distracted by looking at his tablet that he slides on the blood. Bashing into a table with a thud, he looks around the packed room; "What's going on? Isn't there a janitor around to clean up the mess and put out a sign. This is in violation of HSE Act2004, I've a good mind to complain - there could be an accident." He looks at Marco's corpse and bounces up and down with the forthright agitation of a child being able to correct their parents. "See there has been! Poor Marco's dead! Isn't he doctor! |