2. DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE GAME OUTSIDE THIS THREAD. Except for the Discussion Thread. Remember to use spoiler tags etc.
3. Please stay (at least mostly) on topic.
4. Don't lurk. Inform in game/via PM if you will be gone for a period of time greater than say 48 hours, or if you want a replacement.
5. If you aren't part of the game, please post in spoilers in the discussion thread for outside analysis. Don't talk in thread unless the game is already over.
6. During the night, feel free to chat, just don't play the game during the night. (In thread obviously. PMing is a different story) Outsiders, feel free to chat as well, but again, don't post any content.
7. If you die, don't say anything for the rest of the game except a simple, "Bah, you got me," which reveals no information.
8. You may not post verbatim or quote from your role PM. Paraphrasing is fine.
9. You may not edit your posts.
10. You are not dead until you are either told this in thread, or via a PM from a mod.
The Mighty Thesaurus
Dead Players (including any info revealed upon death)
Angua (Anton Briggs, Town)
weiyaoli (Vince Masuka, Town)
Felltir/Dr Ug (Katherine Levenson, Scum)
Tigerlion (Maria LaGuerta, Town)
Brooklynxman (Lila Tournay, Independent)
ElectricHaze (Neil Guilford, Independent)
Jar'O'Jam (Darren Seidell, Independent)
Krong (Debra Morgan, Town)
VectorZero (Kassandra Levenson, Scum)
Overbored (Kayleigh Levenson, scum)
Azrael001 (James Doakes, independent)
This is a semi-open setup with the number of roles in each alignment revealed, but not much else
Scum roles - 3
Independent roles - 4
This game is loosely based on the TV show, Dexter.
An excerpt from 'Dearly Devoted Dexter' by Jeff Lindsay:
My dear dark other self urges me to pounce—now—sink my moonlit fangs into the oh-so-vulnerable flesh on the far side of the hedge. But the time is not right and so I wait, watching cautiously as my unsuspecting victim creeps past, eyes wide, knowing that something is watching but not knowing that I am here, only three steely feet away in the hedge. I could so easily slide out like the knife blade I am, and work my wonderful magic—but I wait, suspected but unseen.
One long stealthy moment tiptoes into another and still I wait for just the right time; the leap, the outstretched hand, the cold glee as I see the terror spread across the face of my victim—
But no. Something is not right.
And now it is Dexter’s turn to feel the queasy prickling of eyes on his back, the flutter of fear as I become more certain that something is now hunting me. Some other night stalker is feeling the sharp interior drool as he watches me from somewhere nearby—and I do not like this thought. And like a small clap of thunder the gleeful hand comes down out of nowhere and onto me blindingly fast, and I glimpse the gleaming teeth of a nine-year-old neighbor boy. “Gotcha! One, two, three on Dexter!” And with the savage speed of the very young the rest of them are there, giggling wildly and shouting at me as I stand in the bushes humiliated. It is over. Cody stares at me, disappointed, as though Dexter the Night God has let down his high priest. Astor, his sister, joins in the hooting of the kids before they skitter off into the dark once more, to new and more complicated hiding places, leaving me so very alone in my shame.
Dexter did not kick the can. And now Dexter is It. Again.