Forum Thread
Pokeheroes Mafia: Game 1
Forum-Index → Roleplay → Pokeheroes Mafia: Game 1~𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆~
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SIGN-UPS FOR ROUND ONE ARE NOW CLOSED.
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Welcome one and all to Dominic Lucarini's villa mansion. You have been generously invited to an amazing party, the likes of which this city has never seen. Do you see the jugglers and jesters, hear the jazz combo's music? Do you taste the amazing food served to you by the most professional waiters in the city? Don't forget to tip them well, they might give you some interesting dirt in exchange…
Who are you? Well, you all are actors, politicians, and all of the famous folks of the city. And who am I? Why, I'm Roxanne Ritchi, of course, only the most trusted reporter, and liaison to the Lucarini Family.
But the ten of you are the most special and powerful guests. You see, the Don has called you into his private chambers for the main event: a political takeover of the entire city. I'm here of course in my capacity as trusted advisor, but you ten are the ones who will change the world. But some of you are… unhappy with this proposition. And now the Mafia are playing a deadly real life game of Mafia.
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"Hello, hello! I'm Roxanne Ritchi, but you can call me Roxie. After tonight, we'll definitely be on a first name basis. Can I get an interview with you this evening? I assure you I will be quite quick..."
[...]
"Ah, perhaps you don't trust me. That's fair, especially since I wasn't... completely truthful."
[You have obtained a letter from Don Lucarini, inviting you to a private dinner event.]
"Your attendance is... nonnegotiable. But I assure you, you won't regret it!"
You follow Roxanne to the study, and see a table set for twelve.
"Yes, yes. Our gracious host asked me to deliver this to you, and take you here. Sit down, and enjoy a brief moment of peace. The other guests will arrive shortly!"
She leaves, presumably to find someone else, and you take a spot at the table.
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Hello! Please post within the next ~twenty-four hours confirming you are sitting at the table. If you do not post within this time, I will replace your character with an NPC.
Anyone with a special role will be messaged within the next ten minutes. If you are not messaged, you are a villager. A group palpad will be made shortly.
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Housekeeping:
Roles are random, and were based off of a random number generator with your number as code.
At the end of the RP, I will post the screenshot and a timestamp, proving I did not take bribes.
If you were detective/doctor and you did not respond, your role will be given to another villager.
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Guide to my Posts:
Red means Roxanne Ritchi is speaking.
Blue means Don Lucarini is speaking.
Italics typically mean actions.
[...]
[Bracketed dot dot dots mean you are "speaking" to the NPC in a natural pause in the conversation.]
[Bracketed text means you are receiving an item.]
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HAVE FUN!
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edit: all roles have been chosen! check your palpads.
~
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟
My current RP work:
Ayran decided to sit in a spot where he has a view of everything, and the door. He receives this invitation, and didn't hesitate to join. He was a thief, a phantom thief, who was he if he didn't join in, in this wonderful game.
Ayran's suddenly turned crooked, and his gloves finger twitched, this game will surely be fun.
Marlon woke up, gasping in shock. Looking around, he was still in his mansion but thankfully there were no mobs outside. One of his butlers came in "Sir, a letter has arrived for you" he said. Quickly taking it and reading it contents, it was a letter inviting him to a dinner party from a well known man, Don. Though he had never heard of this "Don" person he guessed to relieve his anxiety of his crimes catching up to him, Marlon prepared for the party, wearing a fancy blue suit and tie.
As they arrived at the place, Bruno, his most loyal servant dropped him off at the location. The place was more extravagant then he had imagined. "I'll pick you up at 9, ok?" Marlon nodded and thanked Bruno once more before entering. The entire place was huge in it itself. He noticed the giant dining table, it was probably where they would all sit at. Having nothing to do, Marlon sat in a chair and waited.
Soars across the Milky Way, carrying travelers, a dream"
"It won't end yet," "I don't want it to end"
"But even so, one day.."
-Mr. Showtime
Hope Myel
At his work desk, the most powerful man in the world sat. Well, the upcoming one.
Granted, there were people with more wealth. There were some people who had more criminal ties. Money, power- people these days dealt in those currencies. It was all very barbaric.
Hope was not, thankfully. He was of the old type. Old money, old name. The Myels; a forgotten people, lost to the tides of the new fools. The ones he would be seeing here- new money, new name, a new sense of arrogance which could be swiftly crushed. A Myel's name may not hold power anymore- but soon it would.
He was the wealthiest man alive. Not in something as fragile as money or control.
He knew exactly what the letter on his desk said. He'd known he'd receive it, before it even came in the mail. His knowledge, his foresight- it was inherited by birth.
The Myels had knowledge. That was what was important.
Someone knocked on the door. He leaned back in his chair. The soothing tunes of Mozart came from the adjacent room. Entertaining guests who would soon be nothing but trunk music. Their cocky grins and their fancy cocktails would come to nothing.
"Come in," he called. He examined the glass of water by his hand. Pristine, and clear. His nails, scraping the surface, clean as a whistle. No charcoal under them. He was free of such things.
No mines for a Myel, ever again, if I have anything to say about it.
Frederick Bowman entered. His eyes were unusually nervous- darting back and forth.
Hope raised his eyebrows, leaning forward in his chair.
The two spoke in low whispers. "Ah, I see." "Can you attend-"
At last, Hope dismissed him, and Frederick scurried out, closing the door behind him. Leaning across his desk, Hope clasped his hands together.
The Myel's knowledge was all powerful.
So why now did he wonder if he were missing something?
....
Some Time Later...
---
Hope Myel had arrived. He took note of the fancy decorations. True money. The pictures his people had acquired were correct.
He smiled at her, though inwardly he was working through the name. Not a wealthy one- but neither was his. He knew best that you had to be cautious of those with a veneer- especially if you hadn't predicted their presence beforehand. He made a note to punish the incompetent minions who hadn't delivered.
He thanked Roxxanne and took his seat.
He discretely examined the guests.
It was time for the games to begin. This was where he belonged. It was time to see if they did too.
She found herself wondering as she sat, showing nothing to the others. It was a little skill she picked up over the years. Does this Don know about my shady actions? He must. Nobody chooses a person that invented a tree planter. Her mind had quickly jumped to the contents of the letter, some of which included 'a deadly game' and 'takeover of the city'. Very well. Zynx would be on guard.
(Mind if I use bold for thoughts? I'm used to.)
She immediately closed up the hospital and grabbed her maroon coat. It was pretty chilly outside, so she was going to need it. She ran outside and jumped into her car. She pressed the brakes, barely making it in time.
She quickly hurried inside, only to find a dining table. She sat down in a corner chair and waited for the rest of the people to arrive.
✿ Where there are bees there are flowers ✿
✿ And wherever there are flowers, there is new life and hope ✿
✿ And wherever there is new life and hope, there is love, and someone there ✿
❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀
"Sister?" He called, going to pick up the note. His sister was usually the one who gave him the letters. He opened the door, noticing his sister was about the sprint back to her room. He grabbed her shirt and pulled her back. "No you don't. Explain. This obviously isn't a letter from father."
His sister grumbled, taking the envelope. "Fine then. I can just take it back. But it's really important." She said, trying to grab it. Theo held it over her head. "If it's that important, I'm reading it. Go back to your room."
He skimmed through it. "...villa mansion...party...famous folks...political takeover?" He mumbled. He was a little confused. Well...it certainly is a break from the usual tech jobs... He thought about it for a second or two, before stepping back into his room. If it's a big party, I'd have to wear something formal...
He stepped out of the car, brushing down his suit, and entered the building.
He was amazed, and a little scared. There's so many people... When actually, there weren't alot of people there yet. He just didn't like socializing. Sure, he was known by the public, but that doesn't mean he went out to meet people. He followed Roxanne, approaching the table and taking a seat that nobody was near. Please nobody sit next to me, please-
He slid into a seat, grinning like a fool. He pulled out his phone. he tapped on the screen a few times and turned on the camera. He took off his headphones, hanging them around his neck. He pulled up the hood of his hoodie.
"Yo yo yo! What is up, Y0utube? Today, we'll be eating dinner at a mafia boss' dungeon! Fun, amirite?"
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
[Roxanne has obtained Kendo's phone.]
"To prevent all... unwanted interruptions, I will need you all to power down all cellular devices. They will be stored in this safe for the rest of the night. Thank you for understanding!"
[...]
"We are just waiting for three more people, and then we can begin!"
~
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟
My current RP work:
"You criminal underworld types are no fun!"
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Hope Myel
Hope's fingers dug into his pants leg. So far... no. These people disgusted him. All bright and cheery, mocking and unsocialized- They weren't worth the money they had.
These people... had never had to fight a day in their lives.
And though he saw them all around him- blissfully ignorant faces- the darkness began to encroach. He was 8 again. The mop rested across his lap. A girl sobbed, using her bloody fingernails to work at a closet lock.
Far off, his father coughed.
And then he was back in the present, as upright and surrounded as ever.
He wasn't alone.
He was okay.
Hope worked through his breathing, choosing to study a painting at the opposite wall. That was the first picture his spies had received. A crown jewel, worth more than anything he sold.
Stupid use of money.
And at last, he felt the presences of real people once more.
Let me tell you a secret,
The real monsters don't look like monsters~
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.
Let me tell you a secret,
The real monsters don't look like monsters~
Soars across the Milky Way, carrying travelers, a dream"
"It won't end yet," "I don't want it to end"
"But even so, one day.."
-Mr. Showtime
Let me tell you a secret,
The real monsters don't look like monsters~
Soars across the Milky Way, carrying travelers, a dream"
"It won't end yet," "I don't want it to end"
"But even so, one day.."
-Mr. Showtime
Let me tell you a secret,
The real monsters don't look like monsters~
Soars across the Milky Way, carrying travelers, a dream"
"It won't end yet," "I don't want it to end"
"But even so, one day.."
-Mr. Showtime
10 people. Just like that game. Mafia. How fitting. The deadliest game of mafia, undertaken in A mafia boss' lair.
Kendo leaned back in his chair, observing the room silently, a far cry from how he had acted upon his entrance. He slowly swirled his wine, as he glanced across the room.
Athena, the CEO, and Marlon, the judge, were talking in a corner. Theo(Of whom he knew personally), was sitting, nervously. Hope, the jewelry designer, sat in his chair, seemingly annoyed. Kendo smirked. This would be fun. He sipped from his glass. No one would realize that this man, by every account looking like a cold-blooded killer, was actually a pro gamer who streamed daily on twitch.
wickedness?
Or is it
weakness?
You decide.