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Ten - Game Thread
- Thread starter Animal Midwife
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samac, if you don't pick someone i'm nominating you for a choke award
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the he Freudian slip when everyone else is she
I am basing this vote on that
Ffs
Kill me
For the love of all that is holy
Yeet KC
I am basing this vote on that
Ffs
Kill me
For the love of all that is holy
Yeet KC
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GIMMIE
Kcalb
Im smol
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That's really funny cuz Im also a girl
Congrats samaaaac! You did it
Now please reconcider genny's post and beans ty
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Final Day 5 Yeet Tally
kcal (2) - fruit 44, Dubz 85
apop (2) - genny 46, beans 30
genny (3) - apop 86, kcal 50, samac 98
7/7
kcal (2) - fruit 44, Dubz 85
apop (2) - genny 46, beans 30
genny (3) - apop 86, kcal 50, samac 98
7/7
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Dead is @genny Eris, vanilla townie
Roster
2. @samac
3. @beans2020
7. @WildZoo
12. @apoptosis09
16. @Kcalb
17. @fruitsalad
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Day 5
Eris arrived quietly. Which, in hindsight, no one believed. They would later insist she arrived with thunder. With laughter sharp as broken glass. With a golden apple already in her hand.
But that is the way memory works when suspicion has time to rewrite it.
In truth, she gently eased into the circle - the 10th planet quietly joining the previous nine, drifting across the wide expanse of the Milky Way.
And the group shifted uneasily.
Ten had been their anchor for a long time. Ten fingers. Ten steps. Ten chairs pulled neatly around the table.
Pairs meeting pairs, like peanut butter and jelly, lock and key, two hands clasping five fingers each. Everything tidy. Everything divisible into calm.
Eris did not look tidy. She stood slightly off-center, as if the arithmetic of her existence refused to settle into their columns.
Someone cleared their throat.
“Who invited her?”
No one answered.
Eris lifted her hands slightly, palms open.
“I’m just here,” she said. Her voice was steady, though the air had already begun to thicken around her.
Just here.
It sounded suspiciously simple. The whispers began immediately.
“She’s known for it,” someone murmured.
“For what?”
“For… you know.”
No one could quite articulate it. The word bus floated around the edges of conversation like a hand searching for the "stop here" chain.
Eris heard it. She shook her head.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Six pairs of eyes turned toward her.
“She’s disrupting the balance,” someone said quietly.
Eris frowned. “I’m standing still.”
“Exactly.”
The word landed heavier than it should have. Standing still, but not fitting neatly. Standing still, but making the symmetry feel fragile. Nearby, someone nervously recounted the old arithmetic comforts.
“Two and five make ten.”
“Three and seven.”
“Four and six.”
The familiar pairings rolled through the room like calming mantras.
Eris listened, patient.
“I’m not changing your numbers,” she said softly.
But suspicion does not need mathematics. It feeds on proximity.
Someone remembered a story about a golden apple. Another recalled hearing that wherever Eris went, harmony unraveled like loose thread. Soon it was no longer memory. It was certainty.
“She’s done something,” a voice insisted.
“What?”
Silence.
Then: “Something.”
Eris protested again.
“I’m innocent.”
The word echoed strangely in a place so fond of clean equations. Innocence sounded messy, emotional, and like it couldn't address the feeling that was draped over them, an unsettling emptiness like trying to draw a breath deep in space, away from the comforts of a familiar atmosphere.
Eris stood. The unproven variable.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said once more, her voice almost lost beneath the rising murmur.
But the group had already begun to believe that the mere presence of Eris explained every disturbance, every uneven step, every uncomfortable silence that had crept into their perfect arithmetic. Because when a circle built on ten feels unstable, someone must be blamed.
And Eris -
Eris was already standing where suspicion preferred her.
At the edge of completion, where harmony trembles, and one more number can feel like the beginning of chaos.
But the chaos had only just begun.
Dead is...
Eris arrived quietly. Which, in hindsight, no one believed. They would later insist she arrived with thunder. With laughter sharp as broken glass. With a golden apple already in her hand.
But that is the way memory works when suspicion has time to rewrite it.
In truth, she gently eased into the circle - the 10th planet quietly joining the previous nine, drifting across the wide expanse of the Milky Way.
And the group shifted uneasily.
Ten had been their anchor for a long time. Ten fingers. Ten steps. Ten chairs pulled neatly around the table.
Pairs meeting pairs, like peanut butter and jelly, lock and key, two hands clasping five fingers each. Everything tidy. Everything divisible into calm.
Eris did not look tidy. She stood slightly off-center, as if the arithmetic of her existence refused to settle into their columns.
Someone cleared their throat.
“Who invited her?”
No one answered.
Eris lifted her hands slightly, palms open.
“I’m just here,” she said. Her voice was steady, though the air had already begun to thicken around her.
Just here.
It sounded suspiciously simple. The whispers began immediately.
“She’s known for it,” someone murmured.
“For what?”
“For… you know.”
No one could quite articulate it. The word bus floated around the edges of conversation like a hand searching for the "stop here" chain.
Eris heard it. She shook her head.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Six pairs of eyes turned toward her.
“She’s disrupting the balance,” someone said quietly.
Eris frowned. “I’m standing still.”
“Exactly.”
The word landed heavier than it should have. Standing still, but not fitting neatly. Standing still, but making the symmetry feel fragile. Nearby, someone nervously recounted the old arithmetic comforts.
“Two and five make ten.”
“Three and seven.”
“Four and six.”
The familiar pairings rolled through the room like calming mantras.
Eris listened, patient.
“I’m not changing your numbers,” she said softly.
But suspicion does not need mathematics. It feeds on proximity.
Someone remembered a story about a golden apple. Another recalled hearing that wherever Eris went, harmony unraveled like loose thread. Soon it was no longer memory. It was certainty.
“She’s done something,” a voice insisted.
“What?”
Silence.
Then: “Something.”
Eris protested again.
“I’m innocent.”
The word echoed strangely in a place so fond of clean equations. Innocence sounded messy, emotional, and like it couldn't address the feeling that was draped over them, an unsettling emptiness like trying to draw a breath deep in space, away from the comforts of a familiar atmosphere.
Eris stood. The unproven variable.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said once more, her voice almost lost beneath the rising murmur.
But the group had already begun to believe that the mere presence of Eris explained every disturbance, every uneven step, every uncomfortable silence that had crept into their perfect arithmetic. Because when a circle built on ten feels unstable, someone must be blamed.
And Eris -
Eris was already standing where suspicion preferred her.
At the edge of completion, where harmony trembles, and one more number can feel like the beginning of chaos.
But the chaos had only just begun.
Dead is...
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It is now Night 5.
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Day 5 flavor updated
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Night 5
They called her the Ten Commandments. Not because she ruled.
Because she endured.
She carried ten lines the way a hand carries its fingers, spread, balanced, each one distinct but impossible to separate from the whole without the aid of explosives or very sharp objects. People argued about the order sometimes, about which mattered most, but she never changed them. She kept them exactly as they were. Ten. Always ten. It made the world feel structured.
Ten Commandments walked through all of it with a bold certainty. She was not demure; she SHOUTED HER VALUES. SHE WOULD BE HEARD. She held them resolutely, the way a compass holds north.
Others had not lasted. Pairs had broken. So many before her had vanished.
2x5 had disappeared into the quiet absence where products go when suspicion multiplies too quickly. Jerseys had been boxed away. Heroes had been buried on high ridges. Yet she remained.
And that troubled her.
She would stand beneath the open sky and wonder about it. “I stayed the same,” she would say to no one in particular. “So why am I still here?”
The question hung unanswered.
But the sky had opinions.
Sometimes, late at night, the heavens screamed. Not with thunder. Not with lightning. But with a pressure that pressed downward, like invisible voices shouting from somewhere far above the counting line.
Ten.
Ten.
Ten.
But it did not sound like admiration. It sounded like accusation.
Liar.
Fraud.
Pretender.
The sky roared its suspicions in ways no one could quite translate, but some could feel. The pressure carried the shape of a belief: that the Ten Commandments were not what she claimed to be. That the ten lines she carried so carefully were an act, a performance, a deception that had fooled the ground but not the heavens.
Ten.
As if the number itself were evidence. As if her constancy proved the trick.
She would look upward, confused. She could feel the rumblings of thunder, but didn't know what it meant.
“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING,” she would muse to herself. Quietly, for her. High on the volume meter for most.
And it was true. The world around her had twisted itself into strange new arithmetic. But she had stayed true.
Ten lines. Ten values. Ten steady marks carved into her being.
Still the heavens screamed. Still they demanded her end, convinced that somewhere inside those ten unwavering lines was a deception the earth had failed to see.
Those who passed her on the road felt it too. A tension, a tightening atmosphere, like the air before something irreversible. Most of them tucked the feeling into a back pocket, something they only wanted to revisit if need be, otherwise to be forgotten and inadvertently sent through the wash on laundry day.
“She shouldn’t still be here,” someone murmured once. As if survival itself were suspicious.
The night she died was still. She stood alone beneath that vast, restless ceiling, the ten lines she carried steady as ever. She had spent the evening turning her old question over again.
Why me? Why had the others fallen while she remained upright, unchanged?
She never reached an answer.
The sound came suddenly. A crack. Sharp enough to split the silence in two.
It was not thunder.
It was closer.
More deliberate.
The Ten Commandments staggered once. Her ten lines did not scatter. They remained exactly where they had always been, aligned, faithful, unwavering. She fell with the quiet heaviness of something that had carried its structure for a very long time.
By morning, frost traced the ground around her. Ten thin marks lay beside her in the dust, untouched.
Above, the heavens were silent at last. No more accusations. No more screaming. Only the stillness that follows a completed count, the laughter of one, and the wordlessness of a worldview shattered.
And somewhere, far beyond the place where numbers usually settle, the echo of ten lingered
not triumphant
not mournful
but final.
Dead is...
They called her the Ten Commandments. Not because she ruled.
Because she endured.
She carried ten lines the way a hand carries its fingers, spread, balanced, each one distinct but impossible to separate from the whole without the aid of explosives or very sharp objects. People argued about the order sometimes, about which mattered most, but she never changed them. She kept them exactly as they were. Ten. Always ten. It made the world feel structured.
Ten Commandments walked through all of it with a bold certainty. She was not demure; she SHOUTED HER VALUES. SHE WOULD BE HEARD. She held them resolutely, the way a compass holds north.
Others had not lasted. Pairs had broken. So many before her had vanished.
2x5 had disappeared into the quiet absence where products go when suspicion multiplies too quickly. Jerseys had been boxed away. Heroes had been buried on high ridges. Yet she remained.
And that troubled her.
She would stand beneath the open sky and wonder about it. “I stayed the same,” she would say to no one in particular. “So why am I still here?”
The question hung unanswered.
But the sky had opinions.
Sometimes, late at night, the heavens screamed. Not with thunder. Not with lightning. But with a pressure that pressed downward, like invisible voices shouting from somewhere far above the counting line.
Ten.
Ten.
Ten.
But it did not sound like admiration. It sounded like accusation.
Liar.
Fraud.
Pretender.
The sky roared its suspicions in ways no one could quite translate, but some could feel. The pressure carried the shape of a belief: that the Ten Commandments were not what she claimed to be. That the ten lines she carried so carefully were an act, a performance, a deception that had fooled the ground but not the heavens.
Ten.
As if the number itself were evidence. As if her constancy proved the trick.
She would look upward, confused. She could feel the rumblings of thunder, but didn't know what it meant.
“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING,” she would muse to herself. Quietly, for her. High on the volume meter for most.
And it was true. The world around her had twisted itself into strange new arithmetic. But she had stayed true.
Ten lines. Ten values. Ten steady marks carved into her being.
Still the heavens screamed. Still they demanded her end, convinced that somewhere inside those ten unwavering lines was a deception the earth had failed to see.
Those who passed her on the road felt it too. A tension, a tightening atmosphere, like the air before something irreversible. Most of them tucked the feeling into a back pocket, something they only wanted to revisit if need be, otherwise to be forgotten and inadvertently sent through the wash on laundry day.
“She shouldn’t still be here,” someone murmured once. As if survival itself were suspicious.
The night she died was still. She stood alone beneath that vast, restless ceiling, the ten lines she carried steady as ever. She had spent the evening turning her old question over again.
Why me? Why had the others fallen while she remained upright, unchanged?
She never reached an answer.
The sound came suddenly. A crack. Sharp enough to split the silence in two.
It was not thunder.
It was closer.
More deliberate.
The Ten Commandments staggered once. Her ten lines did not scatter. They remained exactly where they had always been, aligned, faithful, unwavering. She fell with the quiet heaviness of something that had carried its structure for a very long time.
By morning, frost traced the ground around her. Ten thin marks lay beside her in the dust, untouched.
Above, the heavens were silent at last. No more accusations. No more screaming. Only the stillness that follows a completed count, the laughter of one, and the wordlessness of a worldview shattered.
And somewhere, far beyond the place where numbers usually settle, the echo of ten lingered
not triumphant
not mournful
but final.
Dead is...
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Dead is @samac Commandments, vanilla townie
Roster
3. @beans2020
7. @WildZoo
12. @apoptosis09
16. @Kcalb
17. @fruitsalad
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It is now Day 6.
fruitsalad
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beans2020
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Why kc over apop?
fruitsalad
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nothing really changed my views from yesterday
i think apops started to look a bit genuine but that’s a gut impression
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apoptosis09
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Sorry guys I really thought genny was the best shot 😬
fruitsalad
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how are you reading kcalbs?
apoptosis09
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I'd really like to convince you to ueet kcalb but tbh that puts me potentially into f3 and that feels like a guaranteed loss
apoptosis09
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I still can't reconcile the d1 kitz bus, but the only person left alive who didnt push kitz d1 is dubz and that feels even less likely
beans2020
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What do you mean?
apoptosis09
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Bc while I have somehow survived to this point, there's no way I successfully go up against a deepwolf in yolo 😅
beans2020
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Do you think it would be better to send kc to yolo instead of you? Like if there really is a deepwolf??
fruitsalad
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its not that extreme when you consider kcalbs voted kitz in direct response to beans and moons attacking kitz
prime bussing spot
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fruitsalad
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like beans is village reading WZ and i’m sheeping beans
that leaves apops and kcalbs
i think kcalbs is a hit if we’re considering deepwolfing
that leaves apops and kcalbs
i think kcalbs is a hit if we’re considering deepwolfing
apoptosis09
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My personal choice, knowing I'm village, is to yeet kcalb bc if they aren't a wolf (big if) then that also makes f3 a guaranteed loss
Kcalb
Im smol
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Bur this doesn't make sense why would I start a buss against my packmate (with half baked reads and relying that beans would follow me) and then not buss toby for example which was a much better scenario (just needed to follow Zenge *shivers*), and if anything I started it unprovoked, I also didn't sell any of my remaining teamates and my reads have only declined since then tbh. Like i guess if I was so sure of.deepwolfing I would've put myself in a much better position than now (?)
But that's okay it's a weird game, but this is how it will go
I'm going to get missyeeted either today or tomorrow and I truly believe neither you, dubz or fruit are deepwolfing (if anything beans, fruit and dubz are hard pass)
So on my pov there's only one wolf left
Yeet apop
Tbh if u guys gonna yeet me I preffer it to be today anjlsnslsks
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HEY
WHY THE SAMAC KILLING
I WAS GONNA YELL AT HER FOR SWAPPING TO GENNY
(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
WHY THE SAMAC KILLING
I WAS GONNA YELL AT HER FOR SWAPPING TO GENNY
(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
apoptosis09
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Well we cant yeet for at least 10 more hours
Kcalb
Im smol
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They promised her!
apoptosis09
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Anyone know some good jokes?
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I maintain that if it's beans or fruit, ****ing gg and I'll never trust them again. And village unanimously agreed they're clear. So! For me it's apop or kcalb and while I would love to spend my many hours of travel tomorrow debating which to vote first, I think in truth I would just drive myself insane.
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Vote kcal
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This gamestate
Kcalb
Im smol
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You already did that Yesterday its alright
fruitsalad
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beans wolfing here would be very wild to me, and she would be hardpocketing me to such a devastating effect it makes the santy trauma look very gentle and soothing
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Yeah I figure since I kind of was already working through you/apop last day cycle there's really no point in doing it again today.
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I guess I didn't finish reading d2 I think but also...
apoptosis09
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Oh man samac was our last rep in the game too (not counting qq whose spirit i am possessed by)
We now have to win the champs game with no champs 😔
We now have to win the champs game with no champs 😔
fruitsalad
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ngl i feel kinda stuck
i always maintained genny was village and was disappointed she got run over last minute
but like
the setback for me is clems and spurs both flipping village
because queeqs sounded very villagey and apops sort of cemented that village reads with her deep dives
kcalbs sounded pure and genuine
WZ's defense and response sounded villagey in response to my attacks on her, so i went with sheeping beans
beans is pure. pure beans
and samacs felt alright
so like
something strange is happening
so i went with strange bussing/deepwolfing theory and think kcalbs is a hit
even though i can see why that would be strange, but what wolves are doing this game already looks strange to me
i always maintained genny was village and was disappointed she got run over last minute
but like
the setback for me is clems and spurs both flipping village
because queeqs sounded very villagey and apops sort of cemented that village reads with her deep dives
kcalbs sounded pure and genuine
WZ's defense and response sounded villagey in response to my attacks on her, so i went with sheeping beans
beans is pure. pure beans
and samacs felt alright
so like
something strange is happening
so i went with strange bussing/deepwolfing theory and think kcalbs is a hit
even though i can see why that would be strange, but what wolves are doing this game already looks strange to me
fruitsalad
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i thought @Kcalb is a rep too
apoptosis09
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Oh from santys site?
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