At the police headquarters in Oslo, 18 cops are called in off their respective beats (ski speed traps, wilderness vice, tastefully organized crime, etc.) and brought into an improbably spacious conference room. You look around at each other – some faces you recognize, some you don’t. One guy is eating instant meatballs out of a styrofoam cup and the whole place smells like broth. There is a desk at the front of the room with a bunch of beat-up cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly on it.
After a few minutes – just long enough for some chatter to build up – a man walks in, and voices die away in a cloud of soft vowels. It’s Inspector Rafto. Or, at least, you think he’s an inspector. The truth is just that he always hung around the place, drinking and swearing.
That is, he did until he was murdered. His partially decapitated body was found in a shack, the handiwork of the killer now known as the Snowman. He stalks up to the desk, carrying a large bottle and wearing a bathrobe that isn’t tied tight enough. You all marvel at how dead he isn’t.
A hand goes up.
“You,” he says, pointing. “Fuckface.”
“Didn’t you, um, die?”
“I’m Rafto’s twin brother.” There is a moment of silence from the crowd. None of you remember a brother. “Alright, fine. It’s me. I got better.”
He yanks open a drawer and brandishes a book whose cover reads NEKRØNOMIKØN, the letters seared into human leather. “I cut a deal with the fuckin’ dark forces beyond the stars. The cocksuckers keep me in livers and in return they’re gonna put my consciousness in a giant plant or some shit.” He takes a swig from the bottle but somehow keeps talking. “They want me to complete a 30-day program or fuckall first, but I told ‘em to shove it up their ass. Any questions?”
Surprisingly, there are none. He fumbles in a pocket in the bathrobe and pulls out a remote. He points it at the back of the room, and an image comes up.
“You remember the Snowman? Yeah, fuck that guy. He’s dead. Probably. But now” – he burps, almost throws up, then holds it back – “now we’ve got some NEW shit.” He waves broadly at the screen with the bottle. “A motherfuckin’ COPYCAT. They sent us this.”
He tosses the remote away. “I know what you’re thinkin’. ‘The great Harry Hole should be on this.’ Well guess what, asswipes, Harry is in the hospital with triple pneumonia or some other lung bullshit. His apartment was filled with mold and I guess it didn’t agree with the fuckin’ bullet wound he was recovering from. Reminds me, I want you all to sign this card.” He pats himself down and doesn’t find anything. “FUCK.”
There is an uncomfortable moment of silence.
“We’re probably going to be up to our assholes in murder soon. I figured 18 of you would be at least as good as one of him, so we’re fuckin’ doing this. You work for me now.” He takes another swig, then gestures to the heap of cardboard boxes on the desk. “These are EviSyncs. Personal computer shit to help you think better or something. Hold on.”
One of the boxes has a piece of paper taped to the side; he yanks it off and reads from it at arm’s length. “‘EviSync. Tells the operator who is and isn’t a bad cop. Weight: 12 pounds. Fingerprint lock. 500 kilopixel rear-facing camera. Soldered-in Ni-Cad battery; goes for 30 minutes on an 18 hour charge. 800 x 600 pixel screen. Runs a custom build of Windows 95.’” He belches again. “You fuckers get all that?”
“Each of you gets one of these, but only one of them works. Whoever gets the working one is the lead inspector. Yes, you still have to take the broken ones.” He pauses, then rummages around in his pockets some more. “These are the keys to the storage room on the third floor. I lost the keys to the safe house, so if you need to keep somebody safe, lock them in there.” His gaze sweeps the room like a lighthouse beam. “You tell anyone I lost the safe house keys and I’ll have your ass.”
He tosses the keys into the crowd.
“That’s it. Get out there and figure out what the fuck is going on. I’ll call you back here for reports.”
- Mello Yello Enthusiast
- Smapti Jones
- Hotline BannerThief
- Doctor Nick
- 11 cops (vanilla town)
- 1 investigator (true cop). If the investigator is killed, the position will be back-filled by a randomly selected townie after one in-game day.
- 1 jailkeeper. This role will NOT be back-filled if they are killed.
- 4 bad cops (mafia)
- 1 rogue cop (serial killer)
- The investigator role will always be backfilled from the vanilla town population. If there are no more vanilla town members left, the role will be left empty.
- The jailer cannot jail themselves, or the same person two days in a row.
- Bad cops (mafia) will show up as BAD COP on the investigator’s EviSync. All others come up COP.
- The bad cops win when they are equal to the number of town-aligned players left.
- Town wins when all the bad cops and the serial killer are defeated.
- Serial killer wins when it comes down to just them and one other person.
- A three-way standoff between the last town, last wolf and SK will result in a special ending.
- A tie at the end of day results in No Lynch. A majority of living players voting for any one person (or No Lynch) ends the day early.
- No editing posts.
- No quoting or screencapping from your QTs.
- If you have any other questions about rules, please ask in QT, and I will answer publicly here.
DAY ENDS: 10 p.m. Eastern on Friday (countdown)
(Today will be kind of short. I want to get the first day over with by the end of Friday so I can set up a longer day for the weekend, while I’m out. Days after that will be ~24 hours.)