GGoats ThWWee: Here It GGoats Again - GAME THREAD

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This seems like a good time for the drippy nose gif
David Tennant No GIF by Doctor Who
No no this is the drippy nose gif (ignore javert, SDN gave me limited options)

Sad David Tennant GIF
 
Ah, yes let us now turn our full and undivided intellectual attention to the curious phenomenon of Samac posting a bunch of N’s. At first glance, this event may appear trivial, perhaps even nonsensical a posting repetition, a droning chant, an echoing refrain of the letter N, drawn out into a sequence of linguistic inertia. But it would be gravely mistaken, dear reader, to dismiss this as mere babble without meaning. No, indeed it is precisely in the excessive repetition, the elongated and deliberate enunciation of the letter “N,” that we must root our inquiry. For in this profoundly recursive posting, we are beckoned to a more nuanced, even labyrinthine examination of language, symbol, intent, and dare we say existential resonance.

Consider first the phonetic characteristics of the letter “N”: a voiced alveolar nasal consonant, positioned elegantly along the continuum of linguistic articulation. It is not a plosive, nor a fricative; it is, rather, a humming presence, a nasal murmur that slips past the palate and rests delicately in the sinuses, vibrating faintly like the whisper of ancient knowledge or, depending on your interpretive bent, like the idle hum of an overworked refrigerator. When Samac engages in this sequence “NnnNnNNnNnnnnNNNnnnnnn”
and so forth we must ask not what is being said, but how the posting itself disrupts, reforms, or defers the very notion of speech.

Let us, then, not underestimate the performative nature of this post. In a world overrun with over communication where language is currency, opinion is cheapened into tweets, and meaning is lost amid the cacophony of unfiltered expression Samac’s litany of “N”s may, in fact, be a postmodern resistance to the tyranny of clarity. What does it mean to post “N”? And not just once, but in an unyielding succession? Is it negation? A rejection of affirmation? Or perhaps a syllabic scream, frozen at the edge of articulation, caught eternally before it tips into an actual word?

And what of the metaphysics of such an act? If a person says “Nnnnnnnnnn” alone in a forest, does it carry a meaning beyond the momentary vibration of air molecules? Or is its significance found precisely in its resistance to codification, to the semiotic chains that normally bind utterance to signification? Could we, perhaps, argue that Samac, in posting this sequence of “N”s, is not simply saying nothing, but is, in fact, saying Nothing with a capital “N” as a radical ontological assertion? The Nothing that hovers at the periphery of Being; the Nothing that Heidegger spoke of, or at least gestured toward, with that customary Teutonic sigh.

Yet let us not drift too far into the fog of philosophical abstraction without anchoring ourselves, however loosely, in the lived texture of the moment. For Samac’s act is not just linguistic, nor merely phonetic, nor even purely metaphysical it is also, inevitably, performative. There is clacking of the keyboard involved. There is posture. There is audience, perhaps. Or perhaps not. The very possibility of an audience transforms the post. Was it meant to provoke? To soothe? To parody communication? Or was it merely the spontaneous spasm of letters a kind of typographical shrug?

At this juncture, it becomes imperative to acknowledge what has been subtly obvious all along: that to analyze Samac’s “N”s at length is to engage in a process of deferral, of interpretive circumambulation, wherein each layer of meaning once peeled reveals not a core of truth but yet another layer, ad infinitum. We are not approaching a central thesis; we are orbiting a void, a hollow center around which language itself shuffles awkwardly, like a guest at a party who realizes they don’t know the host. To speak at length about Samac’s “N”s is to play a game of rhetorical brinkmanship: to maintain the illusion of analytical depth while deftly avoiding any definitive assertion.

In conclusion and here, the word “conclusion” must be taken with the widest possible latitude we must confess that what Samac has posted, and what we have now examined in agonizing and extravagant detail, amounts to precisely the thing which it most resists: content. And yet, paradoxically, it is in this very lack that it achieves its curious resonance. For in saying nothing, Samac has invited us to witness everything. Or nothing. Or something in between. It is a masterstroke of ambiguity, a written shrug dressed in the garments of profundity.

NnnNnNNnNnnnnNNNnnnnnn.
I see the impulsive urge to write a writeup over something silly is contagious within the house.
 
Ah, yes let us now turn our full and undivided intellectual attention to the curious phenomenon of Samac posting a bunch of N’s. At first glance, this event may appear trivial, perhaps even nonsensical a posting repetition, a droning chant, an echoing refrain of the letter N, drawn out into a sequence of linguistic inertia. But it would be gravely mistaken, dear reader, to dismiss this as mere babble without meaning. No, indeed it is precisely in the excessive repetition, the elongated and deliberate enunciation of the letter “N,” that we must root our inquiry. For in this profoundly recursive posting, we are beckoned to a more nuanced, even labyrinthine examination of language, symbol, intent, and dare we say existential resonance.

Consider first the phonetic characteristics of the letter “N”: a voiced alveolar nasal consonant, positioned elegantly along the continuum of linguistic articulation. It is not a plosive, nor a fricative; it is, rather, a humming presence, a nasal murmur that slips past the palate and rests delicately in the sinuses, vibrating faintly like the whisper of ancient knowledge or, depending on your interpretive bent, like the idle hum of an overworked refrigerator. When Samac engages in this sequence “NnnNnNNnNnnnnNNNnnnnnn”
and so forth we must ask not what is being said, but how the posting itself disrupts, reforms, or defers the very notion of speech.

Let us, then, not underestimate the performative nature of this post. In a world overrun with over communication where language is currency, opinion is cheapened into tweets, and meaning is lost amid the cacophony of unfiltered expression Samac’s litany of “N”s may, in fact, be a postmodern resistance to the tyranny of clarity. What does it mean to post “N”? And not just once, but in an unyielding succession? Is it negation? A rejection of affirmation? Or perhaps a syllabic scream, frozen at the edge of articulation, caught eternally before it tips into an actual word?

And what of the metaphysics of such an act? If a person says “Nnnnnnnnnn” alone in a forest, does it carry a meaning beyond the momentary vibration of air molecules? Or is its significance found precisely in its resistance to codification, to the semiotic chains that normally bind utterance to signification? Could we, perhaps, argue that Samac, in posting this sequence of “N”s, is not simply saying nothing, but is, in fact, saying Nothing with a capital “N” as a radical ontological assertion? The Nothing that hovers at the periphery of Being; the Nothing that Heidegger spoke of, or at least gestured toward, with that customary Teutonic sigh.

Yet let us not drift too far into the fog of philosophical abstraction without anchoring ourselves, however loosely, in the lived texture of the moment. For Samac’s act is not just linguistic, nor merely phonetic, nor even purely metaphysical it is also, inevitably, performative. There is clacking of the keyboard involved. There is posture. There is audience, perhaps. Or perhaps not. The very possibility of an audience transforms the post. Was it meant to provoke? To soothe? To parody communication? Or was it merely the spontaneous spasm of letters a kind of typographical shrug?

At this juncture, it becomes imperative to acknowledge what has been subtly obvious all along: that to analyze Samac’s “N”s at length is to engage in a process of deferral, of interpretive circumambulation, wherein each layer of meaning once peeled reveals not a core of truth but yet another layer, ad infinitum. We are not approaching a central thesis; we are orbiting a void, a hollow center around which language itself shuffles awkwardly, like a guest at a party who realizes they don’t know the host. To speak at length about Samac’s “N”s is to play a game of rhetorical brinkmanship: to maintain the illusion of analytical depth while deftly avoiding any definitive assertion.

In conclusion and here, the word “conclusion” must be taken with the widest possible latitude we must confess that what Samac has posted, and what we have now examined in agonizing and extravagant detail, amounts to precisely the thing which it most resists: content. And yet, paradoxically, it is in this very lack that it achieves its curious resonance. For in saying nothing, Samac has invited us to witness everything. Or nothing. Or something in between. It is a masterstroke of ambiguity, a written shrug dressed in the garments of profundity.

NnnNnNNnNnnnnNNNnnnnnn.
Zenge is wallposting, wolfy af
 
I can do both. Tut tutting me for aggressively pushing back against scum reads with townie fury seems like a bit like the pot calling the kettle black right, cause its a big part of your game too
Ya know. I can’t fight you. It was a part of my play under fire. I just see a lot of people forget the part 3 of continuing to hunt.
 
Ah, yes let us now turn our full and undivided intellectual attention to the curious phenomenon of Samac posting a bunch of N’s. At first glance, this event may appear trivial, perhaps even nonsensical a posting repetition, a droning chant, an echoing refrain of the letter N, drawn out into a sequence of linguistic inertia. But it would be gravely mistaken, dear reader, to dismiss this as mere babble without meaning. No, indeed it is precisely in the excessive repetition, the elongated and deliberate enunciation of the letter “N,” that we must root our inquiry. For in this profoundly recursive posting, we are beckoned to a more nuanced, even labyrinthine examination of language, symbol, intent, and dare we say existential resonance.

Consider first the phonetic characteristics of the letter “N”: a voiced alveolar nasal consonant, positioned elegantly along the continuum of linguistic articulation. It is not a plosive, nor a fricative; it is, rather, a humming presence, a nasal murmur that slips past the palate and rests delicately in the sinuses, vibrating faintly like the whisper of ancient knowledge or, depending on your interpretive bent, like the idle hum of an overworked refrigerator. When Samac engages in this sequence “NnnNnNNnNnnnnNNNnnnnnn”
and so forth we must ask not what is being said, but how the posting itself disrupts, reforms, or defers the very notion of speech.

Let us, then, not underestimate the performative nature of this post. In a world overrun with over communication where language is currency, opinion is cheapened into tweets, and meaning is lost amid the cacophony of unfiltered expression Samac’s litany of “N”s may, in fact, be a postmodern resistance to the tyranny of clarity. What does it mean to post “N”? And not just once, but in an unyielding succession? Is it negation? A rejection of affirmation? Or perhaps a syllabic scream, frozen at the edge of articulation, caught eternally before it tips into an actual word?

And what of the metaphysics of such an act? If a person says “Nnnnnnnnnn” alone in a forest, does it carry a meaning beyond the momentary vibration of air molecules? Or is its significance found precisely in its resistance to codification, to the semiotic chains that normally bind utterance to signification? Could we, perhaps, argue that Samac, in posting this sequence of “N”s, is not simply saying nothing, but is, in fact, saying Nothing with a capital “N” as a radical ontological assertion? The Nothing that hovers at the periphery of Being; the Nothing that Heidegger spoke of, or at least gestured toward, with that customary Teutonic sigh.

Yet let us not drift too far into the fog of philosophical abstraction without anchoring ourselves, however loosely, in the lived texture of the moment. For Samac’s act is not just linguistic, nor merely phonetic, nor even purely metaphysical it is also, inevitably, performative. There is clacking of the keyboard involved. There is posture. There is audience, perhaps. Or perhaps not. The very possibility of an audience transforms the post. Was it meant to provoke? To soothe? To parody communication? Or was it merely the spontaneous spasm of letters a kind of typographical shrug?

At this juncture, it becomes imperative to acknowledge what has been subtly obvious all along: that to analyze Samac’s “N”s at length is to engage in a process of deferral, of interpretive circumambulation, wherein each layer of meaning once peeled reveals not a core of truth but yet another layer, ad infinitum. We are not approaching a central thesis; we are orbiting a void, a hollow center around which language itself shuffles awkwardly, like a guest at a party who realizes they don’t know the host. To speak at length about Samac’s “N”s is to play a game of rhetorical brinkmanship: to maintain the illusion of analytical depth while deftly avoiding any definitive assertion.

In conclusion and here, the word “conclusion” must be taken with the widest possible latitude we must confess that what Samac has posted, and what we have now examined in agonizing and extravagant detail, amounts to precisely the thing which it most resists: content. And yet, paradoxically, it is in this very lack that it achieves its curious resonance. For in saying nothing, Samac has invited us to witness everything. Or nothing. Or something in between. It is a masterstroke of ambiguity, a written shrug dressed in the garments of profundity.

NnnNnNNnNnnnnNNNnnnnnn.
I cannot read this now given finishing dnd but I cannot ****ing wait
 
I mean I think my opinion on almost everyone is super clear at this point, and i'm happy to go into any questions anyone has. But like you said nobody IS super scummy so at that point making sure people can find you as town as the POE shrinks gets a lot of extra value.

It's not like i make like 5 posts a day, you are gonna see me push people about it
 
Goatapalooza - Night 2

It was the second night of Goatapalooza, and the air over Gruffendale shimmered with anticipation and the faint scent of lavender hay. The festival fields pulsed with neon glow-sticks woven into horns, glittered hooves, and the rhythmic stomping of a thousand overexcited goats. Somewhere in the distance, a poorly tuned banjo battled a synth-heavy loop, but the Baroness didn’t mind. Nothing could dull her anticipation.

Baroness Twinklehorn III stood proudly at the edge of her tent, looking out over the meadow where the stage was set. Her silver bell glinted beneath the hanging fairy lights. Tomorrow, Fall Out Boy would perform. The Fall Out Boy.

She hummed a few bars under her breath, eyes half-lidded in dream:
“Goat herd, we’re goin’ down swingin’
Horns up high and our hooves keep kickin’…”​

Oh, how she adored that chorus. She’d even had it etched into her salt lick.

As she nibbled absently on a clover canapé, a hush fell over the meadow. Behind her, a shriek pierced the night. The Baroness turned just in time to see a young, impulsive goat emerge from a cluster of saplings, completely foamed. Bubbles clung to her fur like snowy parasites, dripping in unnatural volume.

“It came outta nowhere,” she gasped, eyes wide. “One second I’m dancin’ by the hay-stack DJ, next thing I know - fffssshhhh! Fire foam! It doesn't even taste like cotton candy,” she added, mournfully. "I thought it would taste like a cloud roll 😢 "

A cluster of goats muttered nervously. Some said they saw glowing eyes in the woods. Others whispered about hooves too long, faces too smooth, goats that didn’t blink. Still, most brushed it off. Goatapalooza always attracted the odd fringe crowd.

But Twinklehorn felt a chill. A strange tension gripped her withers, but she chalked it up to excitement.


Just past midnight, the Baroness retired to her private tent—an opulent structure draped in silk banners and fortified with woven blackberry brambles. Her entourage had long since trotted off to the late-night root rave, leaving her in peace.

She lit a citronella candle to keep the mosquitoes away. Its soft glow danced across her coat.
“We were born to bounce around
We’re just goats, we’re just goats messin’ around…”​

She sighed, humming again.

Then—a sound. Not wind. Not music.

Something shifted in the darkness. A shadow passed across the silk.


The Baroness rose. “Who’s there?” she asked, voice firm with noble weight. “If you’ve come for autographs, do return in the morning.”


Silence.

Then: ffffft.
A dart. Tiny, sharp. Barely felt it graze her neck.


The candle trembled. The silk rustled.

Baroness Twinklehorn III staggered back. Her vision blurred. The world tilted as the gentle thrum of bass and goatish laughter faded into a hush. Her knees buckled.


She fell with grace, if not sound.

Outside, the moon crept behind a cloud.



At dawn, the village awoke to bells ringing, not in celebration, but alarm.


The Baroness was found curled in her tent, her bell silenced, eyes glassy.

Murder. The latest in what was turning into a disastrous Goatapalooza, sick beats marred by sick goats.

The goats searched for evidence, but found nothing beyond hoofprints outside the tent. Tensions were high. No one could be trusted.


The third day of Goatapalooza dawned quieter. Suspicious. Eyes lingered too long. The stage remained set for Fall Out Boy, but no one was sure if they’d play.

But one thing was clear.

Baroness Twinklehorn III had gone down swingin’. And someone wanted to make sure she stayed down.

Dead is...
1750123507686.png

@samac, Baroness Twinklehorn III, and a...
vanilla villager

You are Baroness Twinklehorn III. You have a master's degree in interpretive dance and routinely host midnight poetry readings under the old apple tree. Your favorite word is “spork.”
 
10 players remain.

1.) @Zenge142
2.) @genny
3.) @mkg323
4.) @Clem J
6.) @vampyrica
7.) @WildZoo
11.) @GreedyBanger
13.) @beans2020
14.) @Sakuraaa --> @Animal Midwife
15.) @Lissarae06

Out to Pasture:
9.) @fruitsalad, Muffinwump the Slightly Moist, vanilla villager
10.) @KayJayQueue, General Hoofinstein McScuttle, vanilla villager
5.) @potentialsheltervet, Lady Fluffernuzzle von Maaahstein, vanilla villager converted to wolf
8.) @madrigal01, Count Dinglefluff O'Bleep, vanilla villager
12.) @ClinicalABA --> @samac, Baroness Twinklehorn III, vanilla villager

Subs:
we're out of subs, so no one else need one pls

Tots:
@JaggedJimmyJay
@kaydubs
@Dinashadow
@Barkley13
@oliversacks4thewin
@chicandtoughness

It is now Day 3. Vote closes on 6/17 at 9 PM EDT (10 PM Mermaidland/8 PM CDT/6 PM PDT).
 
‼️ ATTEN: URGENT MESSAGE TO OUR GOAT-MMUNITY ‼️

my beloved capprys, we have another devastating loss. our highly decorated and approachable Barroness Twinklehorn III has been found murdered in cold blood. this cannot and will not stand. i urge our community to come together once and for all to put an end to this shadowy scums tyranny. i encourage you to speak to mkg and i's secretary in town hall to express who you believe should be looked into further and get out metaphorical and literal **** together. nobody is safe now, even your beloved mayors and we must stand together and look for safety amongst eachother. please direct any questions you may have to either mayor and we will be sure to respond in a timely and prompt manner.

all my best,
Mayor Vampy

PS: Zenge, i hope you enjoyed the foam shower stinky
 
What are you opinions on Clem and Vampy AM. Because WZ, Clem, Vampy is my limpool today and i'm trying to differentiate. WZ was third to last on my reads list because i was deferring to zenge/samac about it a little so going into more detail on that read would help as well.
 
Samac dying over MKG or Genny is wild to me. Lissa too really. Even if they were consistently townread
 
Vampy is town, no question.
I just got to use the ice cream coupon. You pick another player and then you learn their role. I used it on vampy and was told that she is vanilla villager.
 
Vampy is town, no question.
I just got to use the ice cream coupon. You pick another player and then you learn their role. I used it on vampy and was told that she is vanilla villager.
YOU GAVE ME THE ICE CREAM!?!?! AWWW!!!
 
Vampy is town, no question.
I just got to use the ice cream coupon. You pick another player and then you learn their role. I used it on vampy and was told that she is vanilla villager.
btw the only flavor left was neopolitan but i like neopolitan so i was v happy
 
to my fellow goats,
may I please have a moment of silence for Samac. We lost our favorite yapper last night. please, let us come together, and truly find the village amongst us. apologies for the short address, I'm at a loss for words and tbh, kinda was hoping to die. (oh and welcome AM)
Regards,
MayorKG
 
to my fellow goats,
may I please have a moment of silence for Samac. We lost our favorite yapper last night. please, let us come together, and truly find the village amongst us. apologies for the short address, I'm at a loss for words and tbh, kinda was hoping to die. (oh and welcome AM)
Regards,
MayorKG
i didnt realize both mayors had a death wish- this is awk.

Twins Twinning GIF by The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon
 
Slick Hello GIF by SpongeBob SquarePants


aaand we're back, lets kick things off with a bang, ✨LEGACY READS TIME✨ and the order. does. matter. folks.

V
MKG
Genny
Vampy
Beans
Lissa
Greedy
Samac
Zenge
Sakura
Clem
Dubz
W
This is an unhinged list, I think I'm here for it
 
What are you opinions on Clem and Vampy AM. Because WZ, Clem, Vampy is my limpool today and i'm trying to differentiate. WZ was third to last on my reads list because i was deferring to zenge/samac about it a little so going into more detail on that read would help as well.
They're both in my POE.

From what I've been observing, neither of the reasons for townreading dubz exist.

Mads TMI'd her? Not possible because she was village.
Teamed up samac and Zenge? samac is dead.

She also

a. has motivation to kill JQK.
b. knows PSV's strengths as a wolf intimately well.

There's always an OG who knows PSV's scumgame well to make such a move.
 
Maybe I'm the unhinged one

Are people really sring vamp?
 
They're both in my POE.

From what I've been observing, neither of the reasons for townreading dubz exist.

Mads TMI'd her? Not possible because she was village.
Teamed up samac and Zenge? samac is dead.

She also

a. has motivation to kill JQK.
b. knows PSV's strengths as a wolf intimately well.

There's always an OG who knows PSV's scumgame well to make such a move.
Yes the idea that someone in the vet players side did the recruiting is something I vibe with. Genny killed PSV, Samac is town, Zenge I think is town.
I'm down to clown

Vote WZ
 
A samac kill makes absolutely no sense coming from me

It's also pretty obvious that I was not working with PSV on her skinsuit claim. Especially since you can see on thread that I probably would have just had her claim sleepwalker, or at least not made that claim for her when she'd already said things that contradicted it. That would be sloppy as hell wolf work, which anyone who has played with me knows is not my style.
They're both in my POE.

From what I've been observing, neither of the reasons for townreading dubz exist.

Mads TMI'd her? Not possible because she was village.
Teamed up samac and Zenge? samac is dead.

She also

a. has motivation to kill JQK.
b. knows PSV's strengths as a wolf intimately well.

There's always an OG who knows PSV's scumgame well to make such a move.
No one ever, a single time, claimed the former as a reason to village read me... If mads was a wolf everyone was saying I was too, so what are you talking about?

I paired Zenge and samac for a single day of PMing. There would be no reason for me to kill her AFTER that, the PM was already closed


And I would not have converted PSV while she was traveling and her activity level was low at the time and unknown in the future
 
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