The question was rhetorical anyway
Of course it’s solving I just don’t see her early contributions in that game as particularly helpful
Good meowning
Ah. Formal meaning.
And no it is not immature. It is however audacious.
OH I thought you were calling Achro immature
This makes way more sense
Also imagine townreading me while i am alive? Gross.
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Yeah hopefully the further we get into the game it’ll be more obvious that IU’m town, assuming I don’t keep getting frozen. Actaully having time to spend in thread helps
Not right now no, I don’t see any benefit in elaborating more atm
calling other people cringe is cringe
It’s sound logic.
But I do think guava is aware enough that they’d know how it looks to us, and use that to their advantage.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it.
I just think W!Guava can pull this off to try and look towny.
Do you have an fm guava wolf game for reference?
I… don’t have much of one.
But guava was a wolf for a bit in CoD 2.
guava often is just town in games.
I didn’t know you were backreading, I thought you were up to date.
I don’t like letting that stop me from townreading strong wolf players. If they are towny, they are towny.
… for a bit? Link?
Converted into the evil faction and then killed off while soul linked in order to kill an extra towny so we could thin town’s numbers quicker.
…
Nevermind lol
1 Like
The guava wagon is meh.
Frost is currently in his wolfrange but should eventually leave it if he’s town.
Imagine thinking we are w/w and not voting each other already.
Only robyn will get this joke.
Upon a wretched stage of life’s cruel play,
There strides a man of mean and vulgar air,
Whose calloused heart doth harden by the day,
And bitter tongue doth lash without a care.
His visage, scarred by cold contempt and spite,
A twisted sneer doth mar his sullen mien,
And in the shadows, he delights to fight,
Spewing forth venom, vile, and words obscene.
Yet ne’er forget, within that twisted soul,
There lies a tale, a history untold,
For deep beneath his caustic, bitter role,
The seeds of pain and loss their roots take hold.
Alas, poor wretch, his hardened heart doth break,
For love and warmth he scorns, yet still doth ache.
