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Quisoves Potoo

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About Quisoves Potoo

Year 06
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  1. It seems the prophecies have changed. Shame about that. My feelings are well and truly mixed. I am by turns darkly amused, morbidly curious, sad, and rather relieved. Let's start with that ending. Hmmm.... Not my piece of cake. I had already given up on Journey to One being even passable fare, so I only watched the finale to see what all the fuss was about, but still, it's hilariously rushed. "Makuta is coming through the Black Gate Shadow Portal. It's a good thing that we're actually stars! All we need is to believe in ourselves! Bye-bye!" I am genuinely curious as to how much of this they planned from the start. It looks to me like they made it up on the spot, but I know from experience that this is a tremendously unfair assumption. If nothing else, it does parallel the climax of LoMN. Then there's the loose ends... The Mask of Time's the biggie, but I don't doubt there were many other stillborn concepts. Let's hope they all see the light of day. I'm quite curious as to how Gen2 bombed so badly. Hero Factory sold well enough to run for five years (though it was playing the porter for BIONICLE on both ends, to be fair,) and yet BIONICLE didn't last three. What changed? I almost wonder, absurd as this may sound, if the target audience at large mistook it for a licensed IP, and were turned off by knowing nothing about it. It's a shame it had to end on this note. A death at three years would have been natural. Sure, we'd have been disappointed at not seeing the Once and Future Theme return to take its rightful place in the Immortal Pantheon of Break Out Themes (for now occupied only by magical assassins with a penchant for outrageous vehicles,) but hey, there's no shame in doing well enough. It's also rather sad, IMO, to see the decline in set quality. Winter 2015? Awesome. Summer 2015? Not quite as cool, but still pretty good, not to mention novel and with some fantastic pieces. Winter 2016? Disappointing, overly-greebled Toa (Onua being a major exception,) but at least Umarak and the creatures were lovely. Summer 2016? Blargh, meh, humbug. Winter 2017? Well, hopefully they'll have learned from the reaction to the 2015 sets and they'll make a- Oh. But in a strange way, it's a relief to know that Gen2 is dead. Gone is the oppressive uncertainty and fear born of hearing whispered reports of the theme's ill-health. It failed, yes, but we are at the wake, and the funeral is not long in coming. It will not bring joy, but it will bring closure, and that can not be undervalued. On the bright side, provided LEGO doesn't decide to jump the in-house contstaction ship all together, Gen2's successor must be more than just a cut-price BIONICLE. Perhaps we'll get something new and wonderful. Perhaps out of this tragedy, much good will come. Regardless, I would like to thank the Gen2 team for their efforts. It's clear they put their hearts and souls into this, and for that I commend them. Thank you all. Thank you for helping to recapture some of the magic of my childhood. Y'all rock!
  2. Note to self, never say anything to the effect of "well, I should feel fine for the next few weeks." Anyhow, sorry for the abysmally late scene. If this keeps up, I'll this over to yet another host. Apologies for the shoddiness of the following scene. "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." -Turaga Ehfdiar Day One Perishing From the Universe or By the People, For the People He was dead before the noose slipped round his neck. The accusations had flown with wild abandon, but the venomous hubbub had finally coalesced into a singular chorus: "Timelord!" Though he had tried to reason with them, to show them the folly of their notion, yet had the fury of the mob been upon him. Not even the most perfect syllogism, spoken in the most alluring voice, by the most perfect rhetorician, could have sated its bloodlust. Fear had driven them on, and fear had welled up within him, till he burst, the light of his eyes replaced with the glints of the afternoon suns. * * * When it as done, they opened up his corpse, only to find disappointment and guilt. His entrails were not red and black. All was silver and green and pink. He was innocent. ToaTimelord, Average American, Hanged Day 1 Night roles have 24 hours to act!
  3. Current Tally: Toa Smoke Monster-1 Rahkshi Guurahk-1 Phantom Terror-1 Toa Timelord-4 Just under half an hour left, folks! EDIT: Current Tally: Toa Smoke Monster-1 Rahkshi Guurahk-1 Phantom Terror-1 Toa Timelord-4 Voting for Day One is now officially closed.
  4. Ask not what the scene can do for you, but what you can do for the scene. Current Tally: Toa Smoke Monster-1 Rahkshi Guurahk-1 Phantom Terror-1 Toa Timelord-2
  5. "Revolution is war. Of all the wars known in history it is the only lawful, rightful, just, and truly great war... "In America this war has been declared and begun." -Vladimir Hitler Night One The street was silent. Birdsong has long since taken flight, and what machinery survived was deep in inertia's thrall. On one side was a row of withered store fronts, sans doors, sans windows, sans owners. Everywhere were the marks of stagnance and decay. It was a picture of perfect lifelessness. The stillness gave way a little as a figure emerged from the curtain of dust and fog. A flickering lightstone, affixed to a wall, alone illuminated him. He relaxed, thankful that he had any light at all. After so much darkness, it failed to bother him in seconds-long intervals. With any luck, he would find a legible street-sign soon. He felt he was due a change in fortunes, having lost his way nearly three hours ago. An ordinary observer would have seen one Matoran, no more; would have heard his breathing and his footfalls, no more. There was little ordinary about the figure atop the building. Unlike his quarry, he knew very well where he was, for he had grown all too accustomed to darkness. He could have finished his task an hour ago. But where was the fun in that? Manducus walked along the street. Darkness came for four seconds. Manducus screamed. * * * In the morning they found his body. At noon they realized what it was. It had been savaged, resembling more a heap of garbage than a Matoran. His mask was missing. They soon found that, intact but for the symbol carved across its surface: A swastika, ending at opposite ends in hammers and sickles. It was Luroka who put the general sentiment to words: "One of us must hang separately, or we shall all hang together." They would soon see democracy in action... Manducus, Average American, killed Night One. Day One begins now! You have 24 hours to vote!
  6. "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." -Turaga Frahnklin Prologue Imagine you’re an airship pilot, flying over Metru Nui from the west. At first it’ll look like an island desert, its exotic sands making a mockery of the rainbow. Then it will look like a vast scrapheap, clearly left behind by some great empire. Eventually you’ll see it for what it is: A monument to work. You’ll see the flow of distant specks, like a rippling of the earth. These will be the Matoran, ambling about their color-coded districts, glorifying the Great Spirit and making a widget in the bargain. You’ll see the ice-fields of Ko-Metru, pinpricks of light revealing the Knowledge Towers. You’ll see dim Onu-Metru, detectable more by absence than by presence. You’ll see Le-Metru, a promiscuous tangle of chutes and thoroughfares. You’ll see Po-Metru, its great canyons and mesas matched by a myriad of colossal sculptures. You’ll see Ga-Metru, the twin suns mirrored in its lazy canals, their rays barely touching the local scholars. None of these rates more than a town. Some rate as villages. Then you’ll see America. Back when it was Ta-Metru, it was a modest mass of red. Now it is dappled with blue and white. Now it juts out across the ocean, an artificial peninsula. Now vast towers dot the streets, their spires threatening to scrape the Dome itself. Not so long ago, America resounded with songs of joy and patriotism. America was prosperous. America was peaceful. Then Xia exploded. No one is quite sure what happened nor how it did. The Brotherhood of Makuta may have been involved. The Dark Hunters almost certainly were. Regardless, Xia is now as so much dust on the wind, a noisome patch of black ocean the sole reminder of its existence. The economy of America, along with that of the universe, collapsed. First came the unrest, then the dissent, then the violence. Paranoia reigned. Those deemed wanting in patriotic fervor were expelled, till a pittance of citizens remained. Things settled down eventually. Soon, America will thrive again. Until then, it is a ghost of its former self. This is the city. My name is Magnum. I’m technically a PI, but I’m what passes for Justice at present. There are- There were many types of people in America. Most upheld the law Some didn't-And still don't. That's where I come in. Night One officially begins! Night Roles have 24 hours to act!
  7. Oops. Thanks for catching that! Roles have been sent out! Night One will begin anon! Rule Alterations and Clarifications There are only 3 Communazis (plus Vladmir Hitler.) This way the Village has a fighting chance.The Mafia wins by eliminating the Village. Neutral roles need not be killed.The Frenchman wins by eliminating the Mafia, if not converted to their cause. If the Mafia wins, and he is not among their ranks, he loses.The Canadian wins by surviving to the end, regardless of the Mafia's extinction.The Canadian's power has been changed. Each night he can switch places with another player, causing everyone that targeted his target to target him instead, and vice-versa.The Murican Medic can choose to protect himself until he is targeted by the Mafia, after which they get wise to his methods of self-defense. In the unlikely event that he and the Canadian target each other, he is protected as if someone else is protecting him.Magnum P.I. is not protected from lynching.Should Chuck Norris choose to investigate, he does so by Night.Vladmir Hitler does not know the identity of his comrades.Two vote switches are allowed, not counting mistakes. Please be honest.Each round lasts a minimum of 24 hours and ends when I say so. Votes cast in between the end of a round and the beginning of another do not count.Revealing your own role is allowed.Screencaps, however, are verbotten. Should be obvious, but one can't be too careful. Use of one will result in your removal from the game.Play for your side. No treachery or deliberate counter-productivity. Again this should be obvious. Selling out your comrades in the Mafia will result in your removal and the reshuffling of all roles. Selling out a fellow villager will result in your removal and the reshuffling of his role. Deliberate counter-productivity will be handled on a case-by-case basis.In the event of a deadlock on the final Day, i.e. only one Villager and only one Communazi survive, the Mafia wins.The rules are subject to change as I see fit.EDIT: You can also reveal the role of someone you've discovered.EDIT2: For those new to Mafia: If you haven't gotten a PM, you're an Average American.
  8. New OP (credit to Nik the Three for the banner) Once upon a time, there was a Matoran named Nuck Chorris. He was merely seconds away from completing his masterwork. He had placed a bun made of wheat on the table. He then spread ketchup on that bun, piling on that a meat patty, onions, and cabbage. He then placed another bun atop that. On that lay lettuce, and tomato… and another patty. He then took out a glowing object of pure gloriousness… bacon. He placed the bacon atop the foodstuff pile, and quickly smothered it with the final bun. He then took out his patented frilly toothpick… and gingerly inserted it through the thing. He had finally created his masterwork… The 1/2 pound deluxe bacon cheeseburger. Suddenly, a magic portal erupted from beneath it, transforming Nuck into Chuck… Chuck Norris. A sudden rush of patriotism flowed throughout him, and he quickly got to work transfiguring Ta-Metru to a new land, a shining land of hope… America. America blossomed, much to the confusion of its neighbors and inhabitants. Soon, only the most patriotic of citizens were allowed to stay. These happy few made America great. However, opposition soon rose. From the very cheeseburger that had created America, a new evil arose… Communazism. This evil imbedded itself within the souls of some great Americans, perverting their once great values with socialism… creating the Mafia of Filthy Communazis. Rules: Basic Mafia rules. If you're new to Mafia, or you just need a refresher, just ask.Two vote switches are allowed, not counting mistakes. Please be honest.Each round lasts a minimum of 24 hours and ends when I say so. Votes cast in between the end of a round and the beginning of another do not count.Revealing your own role is allowed, as is revealing the role of someone you've discovered.Screencaps, however, are verbotten. Should be obvious, but one can't be too careful. Use of one will result in your removal from the game.Play for your side. No treachery or deliberate counter-productivity. Again this should be obvious. Selling out your comrades in the Mafia will result in your removal and the reshuffling of all roles. Selling out a fellow villager will result in your removal and the reshuffling of his role. Deliberate counter-productivity will be handled on a case-by-case basis.In the event of a deadlock on the final Day, i.e. only one Villager and only one Communazi survive, the Mafia wins.The rules are subject to change as I see fit. American Roles: Roles assisting the safety of the village. Win by eliminating all Communazis. Average Americans: Those with an unquenchable desire to be average. Basically just normal villagers. Murican Medic: Someone using their powers of patriotism to heal and protect the Americans from death by anti-Americanness. He can choose to protect himself until he is targeted by the Mafia, after which they get wise to his methods of self-defense. In the unlikely event that he and the Canadian target each other, he is protected as if someone else is protecting him. Magnum P.I.: The legendary detective who can discover the role of anyone a night. His epic Hawaiian shirts and mustache will help him evade death at the Mafia's hands but once. Chuck Norris: Has the ability to save all of America. His vote counts double, unless he elects to discover the role of someone the Night previous. Mafia of Filthy Communazis: Those running the murders. Win by eliminating all village roles. Vladimir Hitler: The leader of the Filthy Communazis. Can immobilize anyone for one night, or use his special single-use power of overruling the vote of the rest of the mafia. His identity is unknown to the rest of the Mafia, as are theirs to him. Communazis: The members of the Mafia. They select a villager to kill each night. There are 3. Neutral Roles: Those who are not Village-aligned, yet not Mafia. Frenchman: If targeted by the Mafia, survives and joins the mafia by surrendering. If not targeted, he wins by eliminating them. Canadian: Is just there. Each Night he can choose one player to switch places with, causing everyone that targeted his target to target him instead, and vice-versa. He wins by ending the game alive. PLAYER LIST: 1. JAG18, the returning conqueror 2. Luroka, the guy who un-American-ly changed his name 3. Voxumo, the former leader of Okoto 4. Phantom Terror, the person who shamefully has a shameful Mega Bloks avatar 5. Nik The Three, the guy who is now famous for creating this splendiferous banner 6. Ghidora, the guy who would say something against this but won't 7. Rahkshi Guurahk, fellow band nerd/patriot 8. B0ss Mandacus, the bunny, Average American, killed Night One. 9. jed1ndy, the guy who almost made the banner but then didn't 10. Pulse, the Filthy Un-American who will probably be playing an American due to the fickleness of the RNG 11. TimeLord, the British person who is not American enough 12. Unit, the guy with an unnecessarily long name 13. FF, the sneky theeph 14. Ta-metru_defender, the enthusiast 15. Toa Smoke Monster, the special one
  9. I'll happily take over. If my health fails me midway through (it's a small game and I'm feeling exceptionally well of late so that's unlikely) then I'll simply pass it on to someone else.
  10. Thank you all for your kind words! I REGRET NOTHING Alternate Version EDIT: Oh, and a happy Independence Day y'all!
  11. Hence "months-long." It seems I've been usurped as resident pedant.
  12. So... I'm back. That was terribly gauche of me, vanishing the way I did. Still, poor health is poor health, and at least it was only a months-long absence, *COUGHDAPPERSAMACOUGH* MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
  13. Sorry for yet another awful delay. I'm not dead, but I was feeling that way. Fortunately, I'm feeling better now. On another note, as of yesterday, this Potoo has flown the earth for twenty years. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM Night Four Good Grief, Part Two: Grieve Grieve Revolution or Flight of the Potoo-Dactyl Poem the First Bones brittle, bleached by gnawing aeons, are hung strangely on shriveled skin, Marks of dismal acts, occult baubles. Master of Dread, is he that wears them, Grief's own consort, and the bane of will. Through halls of dreams, a phantom, he flies, Defiling memories, withering roots of freedom, blighting sanity. * * * Poor victim, bound by sleep, know you your fate? Alas, naught can avail. Ne'er Truly to wake, you wander in the wastes of your mind, in a mire of grief, Shoddy things, chaos, untruths. Ah, already it darkens, the crooked one Rending it, stirring a tempest up from its shambles. And he speaks, alas! “Come to the Cult, and rejoice! Ours alone is the saving way, that all the “World, ere its greatest atrophying comes, will as True Life embrace, ah yes.” * * * Poem the Second There was a cult-master named Burnmad, Whose lot was especially sad. For though he did brainwash with fervor intense A grudge ‘gainst him Dame Fortune had. Burnmad, Voodoo Master, killed by the Mafia, Night Four. One Cultist Remains! You have 24 hours to vote!
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