MAFIA FOREVER - Game over - DISNEY FORCE WINS

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At first a vote was cast towards Twash, and this man began to blush. Surely he was too young to die? The crowd considered this and decided that Twash wasn't young enough. They needed the blood of a lamb to sacrifice to the gods. This lamb would be Junior.

A barrage of votes were sent in his direction, and soon enough, a majority was reached. Junior rose into the air, and began to glow silver. He wasn't gonna go down without a fight. He was about to blast the voters away with his infinite might, but just as he began to end the world someone threw a brick, which hit him in the balls.

Junior then collapsed to the floor, dead.

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Dear Junior,

You are The Silver Surfer.

You are the herald of Galactus, the mightiest being in the universe. He has imbued you with a tiny portion of his "Power Cosmic", a little of which goes a long way. This world is in dire straits. You plan to rescue it along with the other members of the Superhero Union. With the unstoppable might of the Power Cosmic on your side you cannot lose. Godspeed you, Norrin Radd.

During the night you can send a PM to Thunda and Gmax stating "Night X - Using Power Cosmic on USER". The following morning you will have discovered the alliance of this user.

You also have the Surfboard. The Surfboard is an item and can be given away or lost through other means. This surfboard was created for you by Galactus, and with it you can travel the universe in seconds. Whilst you hold the Surfboard you will be so swift, that any role which would attempt to prevent you from acting will fail. This means hookers.

You win if the Superhero Union wins.
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You searched everywhere for the Surfboard, but it appears Junior was not holding it when he died.

Everyone cheered as yet another Superhero was defeated. All except one. A man was coughing in the background, then he began to scream.

"SACRE BLEU! SVP UN DIEU, SVP. LAISSEZ-MOI VIIIIIVRE!"

Fishin's last prayer went unanswered, and he fell to the floor. He began foaming in the mouth, and after five or so minutes he tightened up, and his body lay still. You checked his pulse, and with a feeling of horror you realised... he was dead.

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Dear Fishin,

You are Robert Pirés.

You are a very successful footballer, having won the '98 World Cup and 2000 European cup with France, as well as making over 180 caps for Arsenal, winning titles along the way. Too bad everyone remembers that awful penalty. You've flown in from Spain (fuck Villareal) to use your trickery and skills on the wing to help fight off the attackers.

You are proud of your French upbringing, and because of this whenever you post in the main topic it must be in French. Unless told otherwise you must post at least once a day, and your posts must be more than three sentences long each. If you ever post in non-French, make a post less than three sentences long, or fail to post during any day, you will die automatically. I recommend you find a dictionary and translate the word 'lynch.'

Now THIS is a fun posting restriction.

You win if the Real World wins.
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This once loved footballer was given a burial in the graveyard of CHURCH FOREVER, and everyone said their prayers for his fallen soul. With a feeling of sadness you all go to sleep, getting ready for the next day.

It is now Night Four. You have 48 hours to send PMs. Deadline is 3:40PM Monday the 11th May, 2009.
 
You were all fast asleep, when your rest was suddenly cut short by gunfire. Wondering what had caused this disturbance you rush out of bed, and you find AceMatador, a pistol in hand, firing at a mysterious shadow. He seemed to have missed, as the shadow kept coming.

As you watch from afar you are filled with horror as AceMatador falls to the ground. The mysterious shadow grunts, and it runs away with great speed.

Further inspection of AceMatador's body reveal he was in a fine suit. This fine suit had been soaked red, and his body was covered in deep, bloody gashes. You examine the body further, and find a fatal wound in the back of his head. It seemed he was already dying before the mysterious man attacked him.

His fate was inevitable.

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Dear Ace Matador.,

You are Vito Corleone.

You are the head of one of the most feared Mafia families in America. As the head of a crime syndicate naturally your business isn't exactly legal, but now you've decided to work for the greater good. Besides, if everyone dies to some fictional mother fuckers, who would there be left to bribe, blackmail and extort?

Because of your great influence in the criminal underworld whenever you vote during the day your vote will count double.

You also have a Bullet. The Bullet is an item and can be lost or given away through other means. This Bullet is capable of killing someone, but you have no way of firing it.

You win if the Real World wins.
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The Bullet is found in his pocket, crushed under his above average weight. It is destroyed.

Preferring to leave this large and bloody corpse right where it was, you all prepare to kill off one of your own.

It is now Day Four. You have 48 hours to cast votes for lynch. This deadline will be made 24 hours after the first vote has been cast. As of now the deadline is 4.30PM, Tuesday the 12th of May, 2009.
 
As a member of the Real World, I cast my vote towards... Akuma, possessor of the Raging Demon. His killing must be stopped...

Lynch Twash
 
As the day broke, Fishy called for Twash's head, claiming that he was Akuma, possessor of the Raging Demon. The masses heeded her call, set out to vote, and the decision was unanimous. Twash was going down. Well, now that that was decided, there was just the little task of actually lynching him. Twash stood before them with a manical glint in his eye and the smile of a lunatic on his face, eagerly anticipating the fight that was ahead of him. It was not to be though, as Nightcrawler suddenly BAMFed in 50 feet above him, bringing along with him the Silver Sufer. The Surfer shouted "That's enough out of you", and fired a Cosmic Blast directly at Twash, who could do nothing but gaze skyward, leaving nothing but a crater where Twash had been standing.

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Dear Twash,

You are Akuma.

Your mission is to find a fighter worthy of being killed by you. Most see you as the personification of pure evil, but its not like that. You just want a good fight. Well, you found one. This entire game is filled with strong warriors, and it will be their honour to be defeated by the great Akuma. You will pave the battlefield with their blood. They'd better prepare themselves, for they are about to die one thousand deaths.

During the night you can send a PM to Thunda and Gmax stating "Night X - Raging Demon USER." This user will be destroyed by the might of your Shungokusatsu. You can kill one user each night.

You are not yet consumed by the Satsui no Hadou. You will be told when you are.

You win if you are the last user alive.
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You stared spellbound at Nightcrawler and the Silver Surfer as they BAMFed their way to the ground. The Silver Surfer spoke, saying "The rules of your world do not apply to us, fools. You cannot kill us, but as we just demonstrated, we can sure kill you". Nightcrawler said nothing, he simply appeared to focus and with an unusually loud BAMF, he vanished. The Surfer said "He has returned to his world, now it is time for me to return to mine", as he ripped a hole in the fabric of space and time and vanished through it.

Pleased by the death of a murderer, though slightly shaken by what else had happened, everyone headed home, some preparing for the night ahead, others opting to go to bed.

It is now Night Five. You have 48 hours to send PMs. Deadline is 8:40 AM GMT Wednesday the 13th of May, 2009
 
The sun rose once more, the birds crowed, the trees blew in the calm wind. A new day had begun. The amount of users alive had fast declined, no one really expected to survive the night any more, and you are all grateful that you did.

After having a light breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs, you found a body. A man in shades, who seemed partly robotic, as found with a huge hole in his chest. This man was CyzirVisheen. The gaping hole in his chest was left singed, and his corpse smelt vaguely of chow mein.

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Dear cyzir_visheen

You are The Terminator.

You are the latest model in the series of robots designed to return to the past to hunt down Sarah Connor. However, despite hunting far and wide for her, you have not been able to track her down. You were about to return to your own time when the fictional characters' arrival on this world destabilized the time continuum, rendering you unable to return until they die. Your only objective is to kill Sarah Connor, you will not use weapons for any other purpose, so to help the real world defeat these discrepancies you must use the information you have.

Based on the information you were programmed with before you left for the current time, you know that on Night 5, something big will take place. Something or someone is gonna go up in smoke. It may not sound like much, but use this information wisely.

You win if The Real World wins.
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Cyzir's charred body was thrown into a nearby car compacter, and he was crushed into a conveniently sized cube. Perfect for a foot-rest.

The Real World people itched their heads a little, wondering if there was even enough of them left to vote off their attackers. We'll soon find out.

It is now Day Five. You have 48 hours to vote to lynch. After the first vote is cast the deadline will be made 24 hours. As of now, the deadline is 9.30PM Thursday the 14th May, 2009.
 
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