* Players only in this room. If it's idle banter and commentaries you're prospecting for, The Gem Saloon awaits you on the main thoroughfare, with comely whores, decently priced liquor and the squarest games of chance in the hills. *
There are 14 players in this here Deadwood game:
3 Pinkertons: George Hearst's' hired guns, roaming the town at night to liquidate anyone Hearst perceives as dangerous to his interests.
Bullock: Deadwood's sheriff, who, inhaling and exhaling pure righteousness, beats a confession out of one suspect a night.
Doc Cochran: He's killed enough men trying to save them on the battlefields of the War Betwixt the States. Now all he wants to do is save an innocent life from Hearst's creatures every night.
Al Swearengen: Founding citizen and cutthroat extraordinaire, Al hates the fucking Pinkertons, and sends his right-hand man Dan to kill one of them each night.
Charlie Utter: Sheriff Bullock's deputy and owner of the town freight and postal business. If the sheriff dies, Charlie will get all the information Bullock uncovered, plus will be able to investigate one more person during the course of the game.
Calamity Jane: Doc Cochran's best assistant (when she can set down the bottle long enough not to piss herself). If the Doc gets it, she'll step in to save one person from the Pinkertons during the course of the game.
The hoopleheads: Drunk and disorderly, mostly they're just trying to live their lives, eek out some meager living from the hills, and uncover those Pinkerton cocksuckers before they destroy the camp. Some of them spend their nights staggering down the thoroughfare, delivering random beatings to whoever don't sit right with them. The Sheriff would probably stop this riotous behavior if it wasn't so fucking convenient a mask to his own overfuckingenthusiastic investigations.
In regards to the beatings, whoever gets one will be told via PM that they got it, but not who administered it. Whether they want to share that information with the town or cover up their bloody visages and useless limbs is up to them.
Where private communications are concerned, the Pinkertons may talk amongst themselves privately at night, but not during the day. Everyone else may not communicate privately with each other, except in one special case: Sheriff Bullock may, if he so chooses, contact Swearengen once and only once during the course of the game to coordinate some clever countermove against Hearst's Pinkerton cocksuckers. If the Sheriff dies before he's had a chance to talk it over with Swearengen, then Utter may pick up where Bullock left off.
Days last 48 hours at most. When the majority (50% + 1) have voted to lynch one person, night falls and all public game play ceases. Should 48 hours elapse with no majority achieved, whoever has the most votes will be lynched and night will fall.
Pinkertons, Hoopleheads, Doc, Bullock (and later Jane and Utter, if necessary) may PM me their nightly selections or email liv dot mafia at gmail dot com.
The Players (in order of registration):
Crumb
viscousmemories
thegoldglove07
Adam
Sock Puppet
MonCapitan2002
Smilin
cappuccino
Leesifer
wei yau
Joshua Adams
Nightson
godfry n. glad
trillian
Order of Nighttime Events:
Hooples get rowdy
Bullock (or Utter) knuckles himself a confession
Doc Cochran (or Jane) takes someone under care
Swearengen sends Dority to hit a Pinkerton
Pinkertons kill a Hearst enemy
Last edited by livius drusus; 08-26-2006 at 06:15 PM.
George Hearst -- him that struck biggest in the Comstock at the cost of many a miner's life -- has come to Deadwood. The Black Hills whisper of a rich gold find, so rich Hearst has no fucking interest in sharing it with piss-spraying hooples or New York tenderfoots or any other kind of cocksucker.
He's brought in the Pinkertons, hired guns of the lowest fucking kind, to protect his interests, and by "protect his interests" he means kill whatever sad, sallow fuck gets in his way.
There is no law to keep him in check, and the only order comes at the fucking point of a fucking gun. You came to this camp not for justice, but to make your way. So kill them Pinkerton motherfuckers before they motherfuck you and blow your head off.
__________________
"Her eyes in certain light were violet, and all her teeth were even. That's a rare, fair feature: even teeth. She smiled to excess, but she chewed with real distinction." - Eleanor of Aquitaine
* cappuccino bangs on the bar
Where my fucking whiskey at?
I'm having issues with my internet connection as well, everything's loading so slowly in addition to a lot of timeouts so I won't be around that much today
Well, screw you guys, I'll be around today much more than I will be tomorrow.
__________________
"Her eyes in certain light were violet, and all her teeth were even. That's a rare, fair feature: even teeth. She smiled to excess, but she chewed with real distinction." - Eleanor of Aquitaine
Okay motherfuckers, I can think of one cocksucker whose neck needs to stretch tonight if'n we want out of this town sometime this month. That's all the reason I need to kill a man.
Maybe you just don't want your every statement analyzed six ways from Sunday. Any reason why that might be, cocksucker?
Edit - you bushwhackin' me, motherfucker?
vote: Crumb
__________________
"Her eyes in certain light were violet, and all her teeth were even. That's a rare, fair feature: even teeth. She smiled to excess, but she chewed with real distinction." - Eleanor of Aquitaine
I'd argue that point, but every cocksucker in this town knows that Smilin's choice of target is like the weather in Michigan: If you don't like it, just wait 15 minutes and it'll change. In fact, is there any good reason your neck shouldn't stretch tonight?
Actually I forgot we have a 48 hr. time limit, so Sock Puppet's insinuation is right. Joshua's analysis is likely to be more help than hinderance to us. Now how do I change my vote without being accused of wishy-washy voting...
Deadwood I
Welcome to Fucking Deadwood
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CocksuckerY
Linear Mode
