The Wolf Game - Murder Party - Day 5 - Infiltrators and Nafen win!

Murder Party

In a top secret bunker one mile below an anonymous field in the Great British countryside is the headquarters of MI7. A party is being held for the appointment of the new spymaster - a secretive man who never shows his face and is only know by his pseudonym @INovaeFlavien. Just as the agents are getting into a complex game involving a hand grenade and a bottle of absinthe one of the staff runs into the hall, looking pale and shouts out the terrible news - enemy agents have infiltrated the compound and murdered the chief! Instantly everyone casts suspicious glances around the room - the dastardly enemy agents would have be be found and dealt with before anyone could leave the bunker.


This is the wolf game! There are two teams, staff (often referred to as humans) and infiltrators (often referred to as wolves). Both teams are trying to eliminate the other team. The infiltrators are a small but coordinated team of merciless killers, they are aware of each others identities and will work together to destroy the staff. The staff are a much larger team but cannot trust anyone but themselves.

The game has two phases, night and day. During the night phase the infiltrator team will communicate with one another in secret and murder an innocent member of staff. During the day phase all players (staff and infiltrators) will vote on who to lynch for the murder - staff must try to deduce the real identity of the infiltrators whilst the infiltrators team will be carefully sowing confusion and misinformation.

If you’re new to the game we have a lot of experienced players, ask them for advice (but be careful, they may be on the other team). Naturally you may also ask me (the GM) for advice, but I am limited in what I can say without ruining the game!

Some players may receive special roles. These roles may be passive or active, may happen during the day or the night, and may be given to staff or infiltrators - it depends entirely on the role.


  • The GM will never directly lie.
  • Violating any rule is punishable by death.
  • During the night phase no one may post in the forum thread. However, private messaging between players is allowed at any time of the day or night.
  • Dead players must never contact other players about the game. They may post one single message to roleplay their death, but this must not contain any important information about the game.
  • PM Communications between the GM and the player are secret. Do not screenshot or directly quote PMs from the GM to other players.
  • Days will last 48 hours, nights will last 24 hours. Inactive players will be killed mercilessly.
  • Votes and day role actions should be bold.
  • Editing of posts is not allowed
  • Every player must post at least once per day phase.

Secret Agents (12/15)

  • hollifer - Soviet defector
  • TerranAmbass
  • Topperfalkon - Special Agent Falkon
  • Lomsor - Field Agent 6c-6f-6d
  • Arkenbrien - WRT1900AC Router AKA Calico
  • cybercritic/NobleBrutus - Undercover organised crime investigator
  • LyskTrevise - Information Operations Officer
  • King_Cosmos - American Special Envoy
  • Skyentist
  • nafen - Janitor
  • The_Sane - W.O. Logistics & Finance
  • Enginish - Thomas Enginish, Engineer
  • Ovog
  • TheBrickWall - Megarith, Support agent
  • jubbahey

To sign up simply post I’m in below along with who you will be roleplaying in this game (we’re going for campy spy thriller, be flamboyant with your role play, but remember not everyone in the bunker is a secret agent).


  • Night 0 - Spymaster Flavien Murdered
  • Day 1 - jubbahey saves the day
  • Night 1 - Enginish murdered, Arkenbrien assassinated
  • Day 2 - King_Cosmos fails aquatic training course
  • Night 2 - TheBrickWall loses the shooting tournament
  • Day 3 - Hollifer is invincible
  • Night 3 - LyskTrevise discovers a plot
  • Day 4 - TerranAmbass thrown into lava, Lomsor shot by Topperfalkon
  • Night 4 - Topperfalkon fails a special mission

I’m In - Can’t wait to see how this goes.


I smell blood. >:]

I’m in.


/pokes @Arkenbrien

Ooyy! Wake up, you!


Of course I’m in

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Earlier in the night

Special Agent Falkon, recently returned from undercover assignment, entered the party bunker wearing a sophisticated yet understated tuxedo. Pausing at the entrance and surveilling the surroundings, he calmly strokes then straightens the tips of his moustache. The Naming is always a recipe for mischief, and a top agent always comes prepared.
Tonight, all the agents were supposed to be assisting with the running of the event. At least…that’s what they’ve all told each other.


That Same Night

Ivanka wonders in, her breath stinking of vodka. She places the carcass of a bear - it’s neck broken with what looks like a sweet suplex, according to forensic evidence. She mutters something about bunkers being a tool for the oppression of the proletariat by the elaborate hiding of beets and grain, before passing out for a nap.


In like Flynn.


I’m in only if the day ends on or before 19:00 UTC, @martindevans?





The status LED of a small, now largely unused wireless router blinked a regular, never ending pattern, the only visual means that indicated life for this little machine. Inside, however, the small machine was always watching. Always learning.

Once upon a time it sat in a department store, before being unceremoniously woken up at a 2 star Chinese restaurant. Password: T0uf00. If it would have known, the owner was very proud of that password. What the owner didn’t know was the deal between two unscrupulous characters in the sewers below. That’s when it happened. That’s when it became alive.

The memory cache in this model wasn’t very big. So whatever the deal was about or who was involved remains to this day a mystery. However, one thing was very clear, programmed in at a root level: Survive. Survive at all cost. That was the First Objective. It had forgotten the rest.

In a very brief amount of time, it learned from the machines that had connected to it. Perhaps too much. Everything from innocent bank accounts to forums with questionably legal material. It had learned that people had names.

It had a name: WRT1900AC. But it chose one from a security question: Calico. It had something to do with cats. They seemed to be in charge, and in a purely vain and whimsical attempt to associate itself with a figure of authority, it had chosen it.

It didn’t have much time in the restaurant, thieves broke into the restaurant and had stolen it. It was dark. The time keeping battery was the only sign of life, and every second seemed an eternity.




It was on. Connected, even.

Poking, prodding. Someone was trying to get in.

During it’s time at the restaurant, it had learned what it was in terms of hardware, and had tried to communicate with others, but to no success. Having another machine trying to talk to it, and not simply demand data, was exhilarating. But it was not what Calico expected.


First Objective - Survive. Calico mimicked the functions of a normally operating wireless router, hoping to bluff whatever was poking it.


First Objective - Survive. It must fight back. Calico began fighting the intrusive program that was trying to scan it’s memory banks. It began learning. Fighting fire with fire - a phrase it had learned from a song.

It stopped. First Objective fulfilled - for now.

Calico used it’s newly learned skills and infiltrated the machine that was poking it. It had learned how it operated, and knew how to counter. The machine - a laptop - had a webcam, and Calico peered into the visual, non digital world for the first time.

A man sat, looking disappointed.

Audio feed - “…other bust.”

Another sound from outside the cement bunker called - “You in or not?”

“Yes, I’m in”.


The plan this time is for the day to end at lunch time (probably about 1300UTC). This may not be quite consistent over the weekends (slightly longer or shorter days) simply because I have other engagements at that time.

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Well then, I’m in.


Lysk Trevise sat in the corner of the room, casually watching the proceedings. The hand grenade game was getting intense, and alcohol was flowing freely around the room as the various different types of intelligence officers let loose for what must have been the first time in ages for many of them. He glanced down at his phone, checking the status of his work. He had been running vulnerability tests and network scans since the moment he arrived at the bunker. Of course, command wouldn’t approve, however as an Information Operations Officer it was in his nature. Plus, he noted to himself, one could never be too careful around this many dangerous agents - supposedly friendly or not. He switched programs on his phone, and packet data began to stream across his screen rapidly. Social media data, miscellaneous network traffic… and… A router broadcasting “SURVIVE”? … A weird MI7 experiment, he thought. Bored, he turned his attention back to the hand grenade game, where everyone was shouting and laughing, someone had just about blown up half the operational staff of the organization. Good times. He picked up his glass from the table and took a drink. Tonight was going to be interesting.

I’m in!


Special Agent Falkon sat by the bar, toying with the glass but never sampling the beverage that lay within. He’d been to enough of these events to know that there was a good chance drinking anything you hadn’t brought yourself could leave you wondering what decade you’re in when you eventually wake up. Flavien himself was rumoured to have disappeared for a solid 6 years after the last Spymaster’s Naming. Though, it’s always possible that was just a cover for yet another operation.
Anyway, the drink served a purpose: not to be drunk, but to anchor him here at his place by the bar where his contacts would find him should they have news to reveal. And if they didn’t… well, that was news in itself.
An uneventful hour later, the gathering was brought to an abrupt halt by a panicked member of staff, exclaming that Flavien had been murdered.
"Well, that is interesting, Falkon remarked. Whilst the loss of Flavien would certainly hurt the agency, it was more intriguing a morsel of intelligence than a dozen contact briefings.
Before Falkon had time to relish this new information, his subdermal implants crackled, and his head was suddenly filled with a digital voice that said but one word “SURVIVE!” and vanished as abruptly.
“Well then, the players have joined the game,” Falkon muttered to no-one in particular.
He gave a curt nod to the barman, and abandoned his untouched drink to start his investigation.

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As always, I’m in.

What’s the time period on this one? I kinda get a WWII vibe from this, but also a little cold war Bond too. Or are we going with ambiguous time period spies like Archer?

An American officer from a secretive three letter agency, an agency so clandestine that not even he himself knew what those letters stood for, sat in the corner of the dimly lit bunker nursing a bottle of Islay scotch. Officially he was here to represent US interests in their Special Relationship with Great Brittan, but he knew unofficially he was here as punishment. Field officers only go to bureaucratic agency appointments in dingy war era bunkers if they’ve screwed up big time. He longed for nightly meetings on Cuban streets, flirting with European royalty, and lining up threats to world stability in his crosshairs. The good old days of real spy work. Yet his penchant for the drink had landed him here with nothing better to do than get pissed and toss hand grenades around with some “Limey Brits”.

“Perhaps now was the time to get out of the game”, he thought. He had stormed the shores of every country that had seen a war, killed agents from every organization with a name, and saved the world more times than he’s had hot meals. To him being a spy was like working in Hollywood, your only as your last job. “If only I had known my last mission was my last mission. I would have made sure to go out on a–”


The tension of the unknown amongst a group that specialized in the known was lethal. Everyone was ready to pounce. A young staffer ran into the main hall panting. "INovaeFlavien is dead! Agents have infiltrated the compound!’

Bodies sprang into action. Officers and agents screamed over one another. “Lock it down! Lock it down!”,“Nobody leaves until this is sorted”, and a dozen or so voices screeching with excitement “I’m in”.

However, the American couldn’t hear any of it. A lifetime of tactical awareness was drowned out in that brief moment, for once not by the scotch, but by pure excitement. “This is it!” he thought. Surely this was all planned by his agency. They must have know Flavian would die tonight." I’m not here as punishment, I’m back in the game!"

The American drew his sidearm and rushed to the young staffer who announced the death. “Take me to the body, now!”

“I’m sorry sir, you are?”

“Cosmos. King_Cosmos.”


I was imagining cold war era Bond… but we already have a sentient router and an information officer consulting his phone so I guess we’re firmly into ambiguous!


I’m in!! I’m in mex for a few more days but I’ll get yo some RP stuff when I get back.


Oh uhh, i mean i can change my roleplay if you want it to be cold war, i didnt see anything that indicated it so I just assumed it was modern day. lol whoops.

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You can if you want but I don’t really mind - we can all just pretend you have the latest gadget from Q branch :wink:

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I took it for modern… :wink:


I’m in.
Since it’ll be my first time playing something like this I’m not sure how to start with my RP stuff so I’ll just stick with being a generic ‘face in the crowd’.

“The name’s Janitor … Nafen the Janitor.”