They Feast At Night

The elevator doors slide open with a gentle ping, and inexplicably, you find yourself inside a bar overlooking an impossible city view. Depending on your constitution, you may feel your knees begin to buckle, and fortunately several plush chairs are ready to accommodate both drunkards and weary travelers alike. Waist-high tables stocked with water and high-caliber champagne are dotted across the bar's lounge -- perhaps you will help yourself to some refreshments?

Small alcoves flow off the main interior of the lounge, leading to seventeen tiny, tiny rooms with an uncomfortable (but nice looking) cot for each person still in play. The rooms even have each player's name etched above them in delicate cursive, signaling who belongs where. if you feel like investigating your room, you may decide that its interior leaves much to be desired.

But most importantly, as you enter the lounge, a thin blond woman, who would perhaps be quite beautiful if it weren't for the permanent grimace across her face, will hand you a thick sheet of card stock with the game's rules stamped across it in gold foil.

"You have until this evening to cast your first suspicions," she says to you, her clipped tone markedly unpleasant. "The wolves will meet in secret, of course, and the veterinarian may leave their protection anonymously. The last special role in play, the lovers, are encouraged to keep their circumstances secret."

A champagne bucket sits on the bar top. Slips of paper and a pen are next to it. Will you take this time to cast your aspersions?