This file has been culled from Lynette Dray's "Killer Page", and recoded/reformatted a little.
Michaelmas 1997 Game Rules
October 19th, October 20th, October 21st,
October 22nd, October 23rd
October 24th, October 25th, October 26th, October 27th, October 28th
October 29th, October 30th October 31st, November 1st, November 2nd
November 3rd, November 4th, November 5th, November 6th, November 7th
November 8th, November 9th, November 10th, November 11th, November 12th
November 13th, November 14th, November 15th, November 16th, November 17th
November 19th, November 20th, November 24th, November 26th, November 27th
November 28th, November 30th, December 31st, January 10th, January 15th
January 16th, January 19th, January 24th.
Urgent news has come in today from our Cambridge sources that the uneasy truce amongst agents in Cambridge, which has held all summer long, is in grave danger of breaking. A steady influx of new agents since the start of October has lead to increasing unrest. College Mafias and other organisations have begun to take power into their own hands, and there are rumours that assassination attempts on various agents are already being planned. Leaders of the rival groups were today unavailable for comment. It is believed that peace talks between them have broken down, and a deadline has been set at 0600 hours Sunday morning before agents are sent into action...
The blood flowed in Cambridge today as the simmering tensions erupted into
violence. Innocent porters, bedders and lost staircase occupants have been
horrified to find seemingly innocent members of their colleges gunned down
The Lemming award for the first dead appears to go to Michael Bond, who was found, minus guts, on the floor in Emmanuel. Neighbours report hearing a single gunshot and some very deranged laughter, but assumed that this was simply some rather late freshers' week merriment.
Simon Garnett, late of Trinity college, was also found sprawled beside his open door early this afternoon, a poisoned dart wedged firmly in his shoulder. Others in his corridor rushed to save him after hearing his shouts, but were too late; his assassin had vanished, and Mr. Garnett was only alive enough to croak "You Bastard..." before expiring.
Buoyed up by his success, his assassin appears to have gone hunting again... Colette Tourmelain, however, had witnesses. The unfortunate maid was nestled in her dwelling with a young gentleman friend, sipping orange squash and talking dreamily of happiness yet to come, when some git from Trinity entered the room and sent a poisoned dart (well, it worked the first time) flying into her delicate chest. Alas, the poor dear could not survive this onslaught, and she passed away as her young man watched in stupefied horror. Such is the end of ill-fated love...
A hasty photofit operation leads us to suspect that the 'git from trinity' may be the efficient killer known as The Vegetable.
Bedders at Trinity Hall are reported to have tripped over yet another body. They would like to remind the assassin responsible that it can be dangerous leaving corpses around where anyone can fall over them, and ask him to put his next victim in the bin if possible.
This just in from another of Cambridge's feared assassins:
So, I'm to "kill Jenny Axford before she kills all her friends" am I? Well, being one of her friends myself I treated this with the utmost urgency. To be honest, it was all too easy. The killing took place at 13.45 this afternoon in the dank hallways of the keynes building. By talking with some friends outside her room she was quickly lured out into the open. After some few minutes of idle chit chat, I swiftly pulled out my weapon and shot her. Repeatedly. Somewhat apologetically I informed her of the reason for this callous, cold blooded execution and left her lying shocked in the corridors, her lifeblood slowly ebbing from her. Tragically, I fear there were witnesses present....
You bet there were.
Whilst standing in the gloomy corridors of the Keynes building, King's
college this morning I witnessed a brutal assasination. With swift
action and no compunction Richard Hope despatched Jenny Axford to a
swift end. As a witness, I was stunned by this shocking crime and feel
bound to report it to you.
Sam Barnes, despite being surprisingly female, was found bludgeoned and
garotted to death on the floor at Christ's.
Jonathon Mair was found dead in the bar at King's, although, peculiarly enough, not of alcohol poisoning. The bar has, however, been redecorated in red after a particularly accurate jugular shot. It appears he was reading the paper at the time...
Dubious bloodstains have been found at Blantyre house; however, there does not appear to be an accompanying corpse, and the identity of the wounded remains unknown.
Fred Venturi had much of the contents of his skull spread liberally over his room this afternoon. Neighbours report him looking rather weary in the morning...
A suspicious rubber band was found in Trinity today. Forensic experts were asked to look at it, and verified that it was, indeed, a rubber band.
Edward Gummow was brutally coshed to death in what appears to have been a group attack. His assassins have asked everyone to be afraid, be very afraid, for they hunt in packs.
Witness Report (anonymous of Clare college): Today, a pillar of the staircase (not literally, of course) has been cut down. The staircase is in mourning for the death of one Sebastian Bleasdale. Although I tried to protect him and his identity, to the length of hiding him in my room from the stalking assasins, my efforts were in vain. Lulled into a sense of overconfidence, the late Sebastian revealed his name and was mown down. All will miss him.
From the Forensic Investigator, T Staircase: The bloodstained and hideously mutilated corpse of Sebastian is still lying where it fell, forensic tests having not been completed. Preliminary tests indicate that the cause of this untimely death was suffocation by a string-like substance, traces of which were found in the victim's hair and mouth. The 'string' appears to have been propelled by a missile launcher or gun of some kind, and the remaining strands still clinging to the wall indicate that the assassin(s) spared no effort to complete their task. >From the bedder, T staircase: Will you please tell your assasins to clean up after themselves. Bloodstains are very hard to remove from floors. Further Evidence: A calculator dropped in the flight of the assasin indicates that he was a maths student from Robinson ... Other victims beware... Verdict from Sebastian ... Take off ... (gasp) ... my ... mask ... (aaarghrgh)Shots were also heard at the Spanish Inquisition pubmeet, but they were deflected by the strange forcefield surrounding society meetings.
The blood carried on flowing today. It looks as though a resolution to
this situation will only be reached when there is one living assassin
left in Cambridge...
News is still coming in of yesterday's murders. Sadly, the Dark Fox's kill report had to be relayed to us via ouiji board with the help of a local mystic, as his bloodstained and battered body was found in a dark corner near Pembroke, late last night. A rather furtive-looking butler walking away from the scene is wanted for questioning...
"The Dark Fox and his motley crew of evil T-staircase residents (home of The Shark and The Beast) began their reign of terror around 11pm on Sunday Night.
Their first victim was the very unsuspecting Becky Taylor of Pembroke. Using a cunning cover story, monitored by walkie-talkie by the rest of the team, the victim was lured into a conversation regarding a message from Cavendish. When she least suspected, the Dark Fox struck. Letting out a blood-curdling scream, he stabbed her repeatedly until her corpse fell limp behind her barricaded door."
From the state of his mangled corpse, it would appear that the Dark Fox then went after someone more prepared...
Luke Robinson was found collapsed over the stairs in Angel Court,
Trinity, early this afternoon. Further investigation revealed bullet
wounds to the head and chest, and, of course, lots of blood. Those who
found him report that he whispered something about vegetables and friends
with his last breath, which appears to be a sad loss of reason...
Katie Bebbington has been to her last lecture. Whilst on the way out of the New Museums site, she was stabbed in the back and left to collapse in a pool of blood, gore and lecture notes. Unable to cry out, due to her now super-ventilated lungs, she flailed around trying to attract attention, but by this time, her assassin had slipped away, just another student in the crowd...
Inhabitants of Churchill report seeing two very shifty-looking characters trying to sell tickets to Fitz Ball. Last seen heading for Jonathan Page's room, they appear to have become annoyed at his reluctance to buy... Jonathan was found lying on his floor with a knife in his chest. Once again, the lack of a college early warning system made it impossible to catch the assassins before they had made good their escape. Anyone seeing two particularly gory-looking individuals is asked to tell Cambridgeshire Constabulary. But we'd suggest you hid, instead.
William Aspinall was found impersonating a small pile of ashes, in Churchill. Fortunately he has a nice bedder called Maureen, who should be happy to clear up the mess left by the assassin with a flamethrower...
Jonathan Groocock appears to have fallen foul of an assassin with jet propelled acidic string (more weapons every day... it's marvellous to know that the Cambridge mind can be put to such uses...). At any rate, much of what remains of him is stuck to the string, though his assassin appears to have gathered up most of the ashes to recycle for use in Sainsbury's Economy tea-bags.
Our local mystic (who does tarot card readings very cheaply, any day but Thursdays) has been of some use again, as she reports the following message emanating from her crystal ball...
"So speaks the ghost of Louise Cockram, formally of Emmanuel,
AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH. Twas this afternoon after a particularly gruelling day
of practising my torturing skills on my cadaver and a pithed frog that I
returned to the sanctuary and peace of my room. As I reached the realms of
my home I became enveloped in a sense of foreboding and dread (yes,
really). I tentatively reached for my door handle, clutching (rather
luckily) a box of tissues from Boots. As soon as contact was made, my
whole body was flung back in spasms, my screams could be heard accross
Cambridge by those with more sensitive ears or special listening devices
and my skin went an odd purple colour. As I gasped my final breaths my
next door neighbour came from his room to witness my dying moments - the
door handle - I gasped. He duly grabbed the door handle and then also
I am now a ghost and will live forever to haunt the corridors of V staircase - OOOGGGGHHH - AAAHGGGGH."
The contact poison has been identified as that bought, just yesterday,
from the secret section of Sainsbury's that no-one ever mentions, by a
certain Matt Watts, of Clare. He is now on the Wanted List...
Tom Monie is now a large oval stain on a door in Christ's. Other parts of him have been found splattered on the walls further down the corridor. I think it's safe to assume that he's dead.
Gavin Baylis's acid-burnt body was discovered cluttering up a corridor in Peterhouse. He was rushed to Addenbrooke's, but the doctors there were unable to save him; they do, however, report him raving about his killer disappearing into empty air...
The kill rate continues to verge on the ridiculous. Will the carnage never
cease? Actually, it'll have to, quite soon, if Cambridge's assassins carry
on being so efficient...
The body has finally been found of Oliver Firth, who was killed yesterday. It appears that, in all the confusion of the flamethrower attack on King's Garden Hostel pool room, his corpse was knocked under the pool table. Only this morning was it discovered. The men in respirators who had been clearing the red acid strings from the walls were understandably shocked.
Last night, a cunning and highly daring raid involving leaping through a window into the middle of a balcony party and shooting a man at point-blank range through the head was mounted at Trinity. The raiders were most disappointed to find that they had shot a ghost... Another partygoer launched a cosh attack on them, which was apparently foiled.
Determined to end the night with a kill, the raiders proceeded to Corpus, led by the assassin known only as The Beast (apart from when he's known as Chris...). Due to their superhuman senses of timing, they arrived just in time to see the ever-paranoid Ben Harris put a bullet through the innocent head of Sebastian Bleasdale.
Ben is now on the wanted list.
The Beast and his accomplice attempted to overpower Ben with gun and CS gas, but to no avail. The Beast was gunned down, and his mysterious partner fled.
In another example of the attractiveness of ghosts, Iain Ross was the recipiant of an unwelcome advance from The Valkyrie in the King Street Run. All seemed well, as she slipped an arm around his shoulders as he was enjoying a pint. All seemed well until, that is, she stabbed him neatly in the back. The Maverick entirely failed to notice the transparent-ness of Iain today, and killed him again on King's Parade with a suspicious rubber band.
Mark Snellgrove was caught walking down M staircase in Trinity with an illegal brand of nail polish, and was duly flamethrowered into oblivion. The Umpire would like to point out that nail polish is highly flammable, and so, it appears, was Mark.
Trinity food today was rather improved by the addition of a Vegetable. The ruthless killer who has terrorised Cambridge over the last few days had his insides gathered up for future consumption by the kitchen staff. They were so pleased at having extra supplies that they totally forgot to apprehend his killer...
Matt Watts' reign of terror as Wanted Criminal was over all too soon. "I didn't even survive one day on the "Wanted" list, dying at approx 2pm this afternoon. A shocked neighbour described the events of today as follows:
"I was in the shower when it happened. The first indication I got that something was wrong was the sound of heavy breathing as someone ran up the stairs. Seconds later, I heard 2 shots fired from the floor above. Then it went quiet. I was horrified that something like this could happen in Clare College. Not wishing to venture out of the shower room, I wrapped myself in a towel and a dressing gown (I was shivering violently) and peered out of the window. What I saw made me throw up over the floor. Matt, the bloke from next door, was being dragged by the leg down the steps and into the court by a man wearing a balaclava. Matt's face was smashed in and there was blood flowing from his throat.
"When I had recovered from my dizziness, the Matt's body and his assassin had disappeared. After some time, I opened the door and walked up the stairs. A sticky trail led to a pool of blood were Matt had fallen. I knew that Matt had been in trouble with the police and everything, but he was such a nice guy and never meant anyone any harm..."
Claire Wolfenden, under the impression that she was actually playing in
the RAG assassins game at John's which doesn't start until Saturday, was
easy game for her assassin. She is now spread over much of her
bullet-pocked walls, although forensic experts are puzzled by evidence
which seems to point to the assassin shooting her whilst swinging from the
The Maverick, bored with the humdrum of everyday existence, decided to experiment on other people with contact poison. He was put on the wanted list. This gave him an excuse to evilly gas PC Simon Garnett to death as he was watching Home and Away. However, being, as he himself has said, bored with the humdrum of everyday existance, he managed to hang around in the JCR looking shifty just as Ben Harris was experiencing another attack of paranoia...
The Maverick now lies dead with a bullet through his spine.
Mary Fisk found out today how devoted her friends are when she opened her door to Fast Eddie B, who has been attempting his own reign of terror of late. As she lay dying on the floor, strings of green acid burning into her flesh, her friends joined in with the delighted laughter of her assassin.
The grisly business of killing off Cambridge students was raised to a rather classy Agatha Christie style level at Peterhouse this evening. The setting was the Dean's cocktail party. The creme de la creme of Peterhouse society were there, the food was delicious, the conversation divine, the wine was... also there. When suddenly the gay chatter was rent by a stangled gasp, and the body of Chaiwat 'Oddjob' Kositkhun slumped into a plate of caviar butties, the handle of an intricately carved stilletto dagger protruding from his shoulder-blades.
The murderer had melted away silently, and there was no clue as to the
culprit remained... save for the curious patten of ink spots on the
Dean's blotter, and the sight of a little old lady in the corner jumping
up and down manically and shouting 'I did it! Me! Miss Marple! It was me
all the time!'
In a seperate incident, the assassin known as Bick Pen-Tammeter has revealed the terrible pun behind his name, and has plans to use a different one. The Umpire is glad to note that nobody asked him who he was...
This is the early evening news.
The body of Theo Honohan was yesterday found leaking into his carpet.
Neighbours report hearing him say 'Now don't you come into my room and
kill me...', but assumed that this was some kind of jest. A scuffle
ensued, at the end of which there was a brief thud and the special kind of
silence caused by an assassin creeping away from the scene of a murder...
Will Harris has been found with multiple shots to the head at the end of a crimson trail of blood. It appears he was entering his house when he was attacked by an unknown assailant from the shadows, and was unable to escape...
Richard Hope also fell victim to a mysterious figure in the shadows. Unable to see who the person waiting outside his door was, he opened it... A blast of blazing napalm incinerated him and much of his room. However, being a kindly soul, his ghost searched around until he found some only mildly scorched biscuits, and offered his assassin one.
In another example of the spate of door-opening incidents recently, Catherine Gardner opened her door to someone who said 'Hello, I'm the Assassin'. Her brains have now parted company with the rest of her. College authorities are warning assassins to stay in their rooms at all times, in the hope of having to pay the bedders less.
We can all sleep much safer in our beds tonight as the violent and most
wanted criminal Ben Harris was shot resisting arrest by that stout
custodian of the law, PC George.
PC George simply knocked on the door of the wanted man, who tried to escape by slamming the door in his face. But PC George was too quick, and shot Mr Harris in the face with a handgun, cunningly conclealed about his person.
As he lay on the floor, what was left of Mr Harris' brain was concious enough to repent his sins, which PC George forgave, and now Mr Harris in in Heaven.
PC George is hungry for more.......
Fast Eddie B's torso was plastered across someone else's lunch in Robinson cafeteria at about 12:45 p.m. today. His reign of terror is over. Other occupants of the cafeteria were too shocked to apprehend the killer, but noticed the way he seemed to be a rather shadowy character who Eddie clearly did not suspect of having murderous intentions. Robinson refused to comment, but refused to replace the lunch in question on the grounds that it could have been improved.
Julia Saunders, a.k.a Dr.Claw, met a horrible end at 4.20 this afternoon when an unknown assailant entered her room and annotated her lecture handouts with a set of attractive bloodstains. Forensics report that she sustained two gunshot wounds. There were no witnesses.
And finally, our local mystic reports that the awakening of Great Cthulhu is near and that the end of the world is nigh; these facts having been told her by a couple of passing aliens on holiday.
That was the early evening news.
Cambridge was today subjected to a spate of bizarre food-related murders.
Yesterday, however, saw just the usual blood-and-guts-related type of
murder so common in Cambridge.
The ghost of Matt the contact poisoner was not allowed to rest in peace as he proved that ghosts can interact with matter just enough to load self-destructing tapes into tape players.
Ben Mansell was found lying on a very red carpet last night with his own knife in his chest. The college have presented his room-mate with a bill for cleaning the room, in the absence of any obvious culprit.
Colin Towers appears to have tried a daring fightback against his assassin. Neighbours report a suspicious pair of people seen approaching his door (It's noticeable how nosy neighbours in Cambridge have suddenly become...) and, shortly later, Colin was seen climbing out of his window and going round to the corridor... His body is now one of the more recent additions to the workload of Cambridge's forensic science department. So far they have definitely ascertained that he was shot in the face at point blank range. A faulty flamethrower was found at his side.
Rumours that Cambridge's well known upstanding pillar of the community, PC George, was seen cowering in a nearby corner are, of course, entirely unsubstantiated. As are rumours that he has anything to do with Asda's exclusive fashion range.
The suspected criminal Remiel was today taken to Addenbrooke's with a non-fatal shotgun wound. Doctors verified that he had indeed been shot with a legitimate gun, but would soon be discharged anyhow due to medical cutbacks.
The wind carries the skirl of the pipes through the glens, the notes of "Flowers of the Forest" tearfully announcing the death of one of the Highlands greatest Warriors. Celt, struck down in a cowardly attack from behind by a poltroon with a flame-thrower. A cad who had not the courage to face a true Highlander in face-to-face combat.
Revenge was taken immediately by Celt's bereaved. Kelpie, arriving on the scene, took the knife from Celt's dying hand and struck it deep, deep into ?Nagi's throat. Blood spouting from his vessels, the assassin fell to the floor, dropping the flamethrower which had revealed his profession.
Sadly for the Celt, a wandering medic stumbled upon the scene and managed to keep Nagi alive for long enough for an ambulance to get him to Addenbrooke's. At present he is in intensive care; doctors report a slim but finite chance of survival. They would also like to examine the knife with which the wound was made.(One of the surgeons today commented that it was possible the knife had runes on the hilt revealing that a splinter of the knife was deeply buried in Nagi, and working its way inwards, but he didn't think it was very likely...)
However, Celt did not die without an attempt to fulfil his mission. Bursting into a target's room in Trinity he filled the room with knockout gas and seeing, through the eyepieces of his respirator, a figure slumped at a computer opened a surgical incision across the unconscious form. It would appear though that in a piece of underhanded trickery, the target had left a friend to die in his stead and lives on, until such time as the Gods see fit to wreak vengeance on this dastardly, yellow-livered excuse for a fighter.
It was on his return, reactions dulled by anger at this deceitful substitution, that Celt fell to the insidious flame of his murderer. At about 1pm today the food-related murders began. Our local mystic has suggested that it's all due to subliminal imaging hidden in 'Teletubbies' and other student TV favourites by agents from Gardies.
Finishing his meal, Albert looked up and noticed the dreaded Lee-Jay Bannister entering the cafeteria. Feeling sorry for him for having to endure the Wolfson Court food, Albert decided to end Mr. Bannister's suffering. In passing, Albert flicked out a knife and stabbed Mr. Bannister effectively in the neck, providing the cafeteria with a new source of alternative potato filling. Albert left rapidly, aware that his cruel deed had been noticed by one of Mr. Bannister's friends.
The repercussions of the Maverick's brief criminal reign of terror are still being felt around Cambridge today, as a number of innocent victims fell prey to his (rather old) contact poison. Amongst the dead were the police officer Osborne, and every single friend who came to help him.(Hmm, why are all these people lying on the floor? Oh look, one of them has a note in his hand. I wonder what it sa... urk.). And Marrion the bedder, too.
Police are debating at present whether or not to declare Miss Marple 'wanted' after a contact poisoned note was left on a door in Trinity. It is believed the note was addressed to his target, who, being of a paranoid disposition, only handles notes when wearing protective gloves. However, a friend of hers then borrowed the note to write another note on it... His funeral will be next Monday, all donations to his grieving family gratefully recieved by his paranoid friend. Thus far the police investigation has led us to suspect that borrowing notes addressed to someone else probably leads to you deserving all you get...
Jonathan Goh met his end whilst bending down to stare into an empty oven. He was found being slowly roasted some hours later, with three shots to the back of his head. Gardies have expressed an interest in his corpse, which by that time was done to perfection and really only needed a little sprig of parsley to set it off.
There was a welcome lull in killing today, allowing the colleges to tidy
up after the last lot and the police force to sort out its huge batch of
new recruits. Pessimists have commented 'It won't last...', whilst
optimists, surprisingly, refused to comment.
There was, however, the sad news that the critically injured Nagi has died in hospital. A spokesman for the doctors commented 'Actually, there _was_ a splinter of the knife deeply buried and working its way inwards, which we seem to have missed. Oh well, can't be right all the time...'.
As the crowds milled around the entrance to Emmanuel's famed Hall, anticipating an evening of alcoholic and gustatory debauchery, a victory refrain shattered the stillness of the evening air. A lone voice, raised in triumphal song; "Esultate! L'orgoglio musulmano sepolto 'e in mar; nostra e del ciel e gloria! Dopo l'armi lo vinse l'uragano." Whence such pealing exultation? Had the Messiah returned? Had the Senior Tutor spontaneously combusted? Had they actually discovered something edible in the canteen?
The reason was soon made clear; slumped in a corner lay the cooling body of incautious contract killer Patrick McMahon, once called the Jackal. As his lifeblood ebbed from his veins in crimson tide, with his last breath he gasped out information about the killer with the dagger: "Beware.... his shirt..... so loud....."
Alas, he was unable to name the Name of the Songster. Police suspect a FATSO (Federal Anti-Terrorist Squad Operative) with a loud voice and a limited sense of humour.
A mysterious sound was heard in Cambridge today. Experts have identified it as 'silence' and say they have no idea where it comes from. 'There are no dying screams, no bomb blasts, no gunshots - we're all quite puzzled' reported a senior member of the institute of criminology. Workers at a local morgue have asked Cambridge's assassins to start killing each other again soon, as they need the overtime.
It's oh so quiet... it's oh so still... No, nothing's happened today. This suspicious quiet has led senior officials in Cambridge to wonder if silence can kill. On a related note, our mystic has suggested that the entire assassin population may have been abducted by aliens, a fact which suggested itself to her through mysterious patterns in Gardies' chilli sauce.
News just in - the silence of last night was cruelly shattered when the
body of Ben Parker was found in a dark deserted street. The silence was
shattered by Ben's cries rather than the silenced bullet of his assassin,
but your umpire, who was walking around Cambridge chained to a ghost for
no adequate reason, reached him just as he gasped out his last dying
words. In them he revealed that he had been shot in a nearly unprovoked
attack by Clare Boothby, who is now on the Wanted List.
Clare, warming to her new role as local psychopath, later went and shot an unsuspecting member of the police force. Colette Tourlamain now joins the ranks of bodies floating off down the Cam. Police have been warned that Clare is armed and dangerous. Whether the college or the person was intended is unclear.
This is not the only loss the police have suffered of late. In a sad tale of existential despair, PC Maverick drank some Cam water and exploded this morning.
The killing has begun again. Morgue staff throughout the city have heaved a collective sigh of relief; college staff have heaved a collective sigh of despair. Students in general forgot to bother with the sigh.
Clare Boothby, unlike most Wanted Criminals of late, appears to have ended her first day at it still in one piece and breathing. Police have asked her to stop it as soon as possible.
In a regrettable attack of wanted criminal paranoia today, she shot Julian Midgeley. Whilst he may be a previous Umpire, he is also entirely innocent as far as this game is concerned...
This just in from our crystal ball, and in his own words: It is with deep regret that I must announce the death of one of Trinity's greatest and most feared assassins. Trevor Boyd was killed at 7:40am this morning by a bomb wired to his door by a yellow-bellied fiend who had not the guts to face the great man himself and die in single hand-to-hand combat. The filthy wretch responsible shall die!
The Umpire would like to point out that the police force's troop of crack necromancers is on standby to take action if the person who set this bomb does not announce who they are soon...
Damian Smith looked up from his screen in Trinity computer room today to see a man with an evil grin and a big knife. Fearing that he might be about to be killed, he shot him. This, however, being the computer room, the rather insignificant bullet sadly misfired, and Damian was saved from the dilemma of use of an illegal weapon by a swift cut to the throat. Trinity have asked that all assassins murdered in their computer rooms try and fall away from the computers, so as not to get blood in the keyboards. Vicky Peirce died of an unlocked door at about 6:15 this evening. In yet another food-related murder, she was found face down in her rather reddened dinner on her rather reddened desk. Her assassin decided not to eat any, and settled for stabbing her instead.
The Hologram was today approached by two suspicious characters pretending to be his assassins. It appears that they were in fact PC George and an innocent bystander, but if you're going to pretend to be someone's assassin you deserve all you get... PC George survived, but may face disciplinary action from the police force for a rather dubious mission.
Or, in the words of the Hologram:
"On engaging them in idle chitchat it soon became apparent that they were trying to kill me. Not wishing to kill a mere bystander, I drew my jet-propelled Acid-String, but nobly ran for more discerning cover amidst the maze of balconies and staircases that is Robinson College, so that I might have a chance to identify which one was my assassin.
They gave pursuit. In a daring night-time rooftop chase, we played cat-and-mouse in doorways, until one of them foolishly ran into full view. I let rip with a full blast from my can - as he dissolved, he screamed in agony that I had killed an innocent victim, and that PC George would be after me. Cursing my trigger finger, I determined that the heartless murderer who'd sent his friend to die in his stead would not go unpunished.
With my well-practiced supernatural eye, from a balcony I observed him enquiring my whereabouts of his friend's ghost, down on the ground floor. I foolishly revealed my location by shooting at them from above, but my can was low on ammo and the hissing burst of red poison fell short. The remaining killer drew an impressive police-issue silvered handgun and set off in pursuit of me.
We stalked each other across the dark walkways. I managed to get behind him, but as I went to shoot him my traitorous weapon ran out of ammunition and released what little remained in a searing spray over my right hand. Containing the agony of my dissolving appendage with an act of immense willpower, I drew my backup weapon - poison darts from my breast pocket - with my remaining hand.
But it was to no avail. I chased my assailant (who claimed to be PC George) further, but he refused to come close enough to let me finish him off. In the end, in a fit of cowardice he turned tail and fled out of the Porters' Lodge main door. Not having any long-distance weapon, I decided against giving chase to try to rid Cambridge of such a careless killer / lawman."
Cambridge's only wanted criminal is still alive and dangerous today. But
so far she hasn't killed any more innocent victims.
Today, a daring raid was launched upon Churchill College. Fearlessly, Kelpie crept through the bewildering maze of corridors that is Churchill, and, performing a supreme feat of navigation, arrived at last at the staircase where her target lived. Soundlessly, she moved up the stairs, and upon arriving at the top, brought her trusty cosh out of her bag. The cosh that has already removed one undesirable from this world, and was about to remove another.
She knocked at the door and waited, and a voice called from within, saying "enter". Boldly, she opened the door, and moved to the attack, fearing no guns because on the list where Terry Henrickson's name had been written, had also been the instruction "no water weapons". But, treacherously, as Kelpie leaped across the floor, the form lying on the bed opened fire! He felt very silly, however, when the gun was affected by the 'no water weapons' forcefield and actually produced a spray of rather soggy daffodils, despite originally containing a bullet. Kelpie is still alive.
PC George has asked that his name be cleared, and made a statement which differs significantly from the report of the Hologram incident yesterday given by the murderer. The police are making plans for a very lengthy investigation, but already have enough to deal with on the wanted criminals front anyway.
It has been proved once again that crime never pays. Well, crime that, er,
isn't approved of by the guild. Well, actually it often pays very well,
but there's no use having cliches if you can't use them, is there?
This in from the Marquis de Sade (dead pervert's society, anyone?)
"That heinous villain Clare Boothby was summarily executed tonight for her crimes against the Guild's code of conduct.
On my way into Corpus Bar, I spotted Boothby (apparently unaware of my intent) approaching. Feigning to talk to someone in the bar, I drew my Luger automatic and shot her. Thankfully, and with a great deal of foresight, the college had already decorated the staircase in vermillion, so the cleanup job's really just a matter of brushing up the entrails. Uncle Frank's might be interested, since their donner meat seems to be running low again with the recent lull in hostilities."
Clare's ghost was shot on several other, more recent occasions by over-vigilant guild members. It is reported to be looking a little leaky.
The body of Steven Kitson was found this afternoon in the grounds of Clare
college, suffering from a severe head wound caused by a bullet. The
gardeners who found him noticed that he appeared to be lying on a patch of
ground which had seen an unusually high concentration of garden weeds...
They have, however, thanked the assassin or assassins responsible. Blood
is a great fertiliser.
In an unrelated development, yet more attempts on the life of Clare Boothby have led the Umpire to wonder how often you lot actually read the news...
It was a cold and dark halloween evening, and the Umpire was sitting,
spiderlike, in front of a dimly glowing computer screen...
It might even have been a dark and stormy night. You can always pretend. As is appropriate for the time of year, anyhow, there was a great deal of blood and gore on the streets of Cambridge today. Some of it frozen.
The Hologram faded out once and for all this morning, only to be replaced by PC Hologram, who was able to give us this report of his death...
"There's not much to tell really. Casually strolling (I should have known better) into the renowned killing grounds that is the environs of the Cockroft Lecture Theatre, arm in arm with my true girlfriend (the one I phoned on Monday means nothing to me)... I was laughing at a private joke, when I felt cool metal bury itself in my shoulder. Turning, I just had time to see an unknown assassin stabbing me repeatedly, first in the arm and then in the chest.
The hordes of passing Mathmos were mostly in a zombie-like state from the effects of a lecture by Dr Carne, and so mostly are unlikely to have witnessed anything.
However, before I was led away by corruscating angels of light, I saw my unknown killer walk up to my nemesis PC George, standing in the background, and thank him for doing a good job.
The police force seem singularly unpeturbed by PC George's off-duty role as mafia assistant. When asked about it, a senior police officer commented 'Well, everyone's got to have a hobby - stamp collecting, knitting, mass murder... I myself am very fond of sheep' before being carried away.
Agent Ashley Chisholm was a man with a mission. As the sun was setting over Girton, he made his way to the porter's lodge to collect his mail. In his heart was the secret knowledge that tonight he would perform his first hit. Amongst the usual pigeon hole junk was a small hand written envelope- a female hand, by the look of it.
A small smile crept accross his lips as he tried to remember which of his international circle of lovers (all from previous missions with his old Guild) knew he was at Cambridge. Pussie Fershure? Baps Mahoney? Alotta Fagina?
Opening the letter his face fell- more crap! This time from... The Socratic Society? He didn't remember joining, but being a Classicist he read on-
'Dear Mr Chisholm. Thank you for your interest in the Socratic Society. Our first meeting is on... well, it's not, really. Look at your hands Ashley- they are covered in white powder. You are now an ex-assasin.' With cold fear rising in him, he looked to see- it was true. Numbness spread through his limbs. As he sailed towards the floor, he gilmpsed the name of his killer. It was MISS MARPLE!!!
However, Miss Marple herself did not last very much longer...
House mates in Peterhouse were today amazed to learn that their reclusive upstairs neighbour was a)a self-confessed murderer of two b) a fictional old lady with a marked resembulance to Joan Hickson and c)Dead. Yes, Miss Marple is no more, cruelly struck down in her slightly-after-prime by a cowardly assassin armed with bubbles. After a life-time of acute detective work, and one month of beserk killing, Miss Marple's knitting-entwined remains were discovered by a neighbour, alerted by the pair of sensible brogues sticking out into the landing.
And, as the howls of the ghost-laden wind drown out the screams of the dying (well, the screams of the dying aren't very loud from here, it has to be admitted), I leave you with these kill reports...
This is the early evening news (once more).
The police today tried to relieve their frustrations by attempting to kill the ghost of Clare Boothby once again. The Umpire would like to point out that the 14-day rule is about to kick in... Certain assassins have been contacted about this, and will be put on the wanted list as and when they admit their lack of kill attempts, or by Wednesday at the latest if they don't read their e-mail.
The body of Will Wiles was found suffering the after-effects of a heavy night of Hallowe'en style overindulgence. His mystery killer appears to have used the highly crafty and original method of knocking on the door... It seems Will opened it, and displayed lightning reflexes and pantherlike agility by standing stock still and not doing anything. Most of him is now a puddle.
That was the early evening news. Time to get pissed...
Manish Maisuria, in a fit of existential despair brought on by living
at Homerton, today committed suicide by asking a Trinity Porter where the
A number of other agents are under suspicion of incompetance and, if they fail to prove otherwise, will soon be put on the Wanted List. A senior member the police commented 'You know who you are...' and grinned in such a manner as to show all his teeth.
The body of Adam Polka was found in Trinity by his bedder; it appeared to have a low-calibre shotgun wound. The anti-gun loby have already called on his bedder to demonstrate how dead he was to the general public, but she is believed to have been silenced by certain forces within the college mafias.
Philosophers working on the tricky question of 'what is the sound of
nothing happening?' flocked to Cambridge in their droves today at rumours
that nothing was happening, right here, right now. Alas, their quest was
thwarted when a random police officer was sworn in.
The wandering band of philosophers has already headed off to its next target, the Isle of Wight. The Umpire is sure they will have a much better chance of success there.
Rumours abound today that certain guild members are about to be
stripped of their guild protection for failing to carry out any attacks.
More on this story tomorrow.
Kelpie finally died today after having her milk poisoned several days ago by a such a complex and subtle poison that it has taken this long for her brain to work out that she is actually dead, and should stop moving. In fact:
The morning dawned grey and chill, and a heavy fog rolled across the ground fit to send a shiver down the spine of any stupid enough to be up so early. It was a day of foreboding.
Kelpie arose and went, yawning, to the fridge wherein was the milk for the day. But upon taking the first mouthful, she recognised the foul taste of a deadly poison whose name is kept secret, known to only those who need to know. She did not take the antidote, but instead threw herself on the bed, scattering cereal all over the floor (to the dismay of the bedder. "well really, bodies are bad enough, but cereal on the floor....") and awaited death, that she might rejoin Celt once more. Thus it was that Kelpie finally perished, after surviving many attacks both open and covert, in a sneak attack that was masterfully planned and executed.
It being bonfire night, I could say that today the assassins game went
with a bang as several assassins were fired. But I have a feeling it'd go
down like a damp squib, so I won't...
Newly added to the menu at the Van of Life is the Songster Burger, made from the corpse of Peter Ellis, who was found shot and stabbed in the queue this evening.
He was stood waiting for his chips when a shot rang out, followed by a knife glinting as it sped through the night air. Then the assassin disappeared off into the untraceable depths of the Cambridge one-way system, without even taking the now presumably unwanted chips.
We even recieved a letter about this one...
To whom it may concern,
I wish to complain at offensive behaviour of your members, and their complete lack of thought in choosing the siting of their attacks.
I was queueing last night, at the Life van in order to purchase my evening's sustenance (food is pushing it a bit), when to my horror a 'cycle by stabbing' was perpetrated on one of the members of a small group in front of me. This led to short discussion among them as to how well the victim had been doing in this term's game (up to that point, anyway), the details of which made me sick with hunger and caused my to attempt a Mega Mouth challenge in a fitful waste of cash.
And now, the news the police have all been waiting for: Guild
protection has been withdrawn from Stacey Blades, Julie Soloway, Russell
Bennett, Teniel Gordon, Janet Lawes, Holly Swaby and Michael Rayment for,
at least in the (nearly) all-seeing eyes of the guild, entire lack of
effort. A senior assassin commented 'I don't know, youngsters these
days... why, in my youth it weren't considered difficult to get a number
three throwing knife in a man's eye from the other side of the room...'.
Other assassins would do well to remember that there is a constant seven day rule in place now, and that, as per the rules, it has been in place from Sunday. If they don't want to meet the police, that is.
Further News just in: Russell Bennett has just realised he's been dead for two days, after a poison letter incident. The Umpire forgives him for this delay, on the grounds that corpses have terrible memories.
PC George-mania swept Cambridge today as our most renowned criminal-hunter
brought to an end two of those unfortunates who have lost guild
Rumours that an American company are going to produce PC George-related merchandise are believed to be entirely false.
PC George had taken his beat up to Churchill college where he fell into conversation with a charming young lady named Holly Swaby. The conversation soon turned nasty when Ms Swaby claimed that Trinity Hall was in fact just another extension of Trinity College. PC George, outraged by this ignorance, took out his gun and put Holly's tiny brain out of its misery. (it was only later that a very relieved PC George learned that Ms Swaby was a wanted criminal, and deserved everything she got).
Unfortunately, the demise of Teniel Gordon was less remarkable. He simply opened the door, PC George introduced himself, and then shot Mr Gordon in the face.
This is our mid-afternoon update, with shocking news from the carnage
PC George is dead!
Colleges were so upset at this news they could not even bring themselves to raise their flags as much as half-mast; the university counselling service is laying on extra volunteers to help us all through this traumatic time.
His evil killer has been identified at Terry Henrickson, also known as Buttercup, who ruthlessly stalked Cambridge's fovourite lawman to his home. With the aid of his sidekick Daisy, he gained entrance and plunged his knife deep into PC George's heart. The motive for this attack is not yet known, but police believe that he felt PC George was threatening him. Whether this is true or all in the mind of this terrifying psychopath will never be known...
Buttercup is now Cambridge's Most Wanted man.
An aide to the minister of misinformation commented 'Yes, he's called Buttercup, though we can never tell why...' before being hit by a bystander.
The police have been avenging PC George's memory by killing other wanted criminals, sure that PC George was, indeed, there with them in spirit.
Overkill has been in action.
"Tipped off by a treacherous neighbour, I was told that Michael Rayment had curly black hair. On returning for reinforcements, I was shocked when PC George's ghost emerged through his door. The PC accompanied me in spirit, and lent me his cap gun. "It will only shoot true wanted criminals". Greeted by "come in", I stormed through the door as PC George melted in through the wall. I tried to shoot the blatant blonde decoy Mr Rayment had employed. True to the words of PC George, the gun misfired. I turned and saw black curly hair cowering on his bed. His face was ripped open by a bullet.
Joining up with "very much alive and well", we stormed Robinson. After several shots Janet Lawes was safely in her room. We covered the window, and the spirit of PC George was with us, keeping her talking at the door. (It appears Janet has mystical abilities... -lmd) Gas through the keyhole and bomb threats failed to daunt her. So I shot her through the top of her door. She bravely said " That was just my arm" The followup got her in the head. Fatally wounded, she fell to the ground opening her door (a difficult manoeuvre at the best of times -lmd). A ninja star now would decorate her red corpse if it hadn't been blasted out of her skull by "very much alive and well".
The police necromancers then bought back her very cheerful ghost, who led us in repentance to seek for the evil "Ginger Nutter".
The reign of terror of Buttercup continued in Cambridge today, as this
feared criminal evaded capture and went on a mad killing spree. The
streets are running with innocent blood...
PC Katie Bebbington disturbed a man with a jar of contact poison, but was shot full of lead before she could realise who it was.
PC Alex Churchill casually opened his door to Buttercup, and was shot through the heart. On leaving Alex's room, the criminal passed PC Nagi in the corridor. Seeing his gun, Nagi commented 'Loads of people seem to be in the Assassins' Guild', to which Buttercup replied 'Why, are you?' - 'Yeah, but I'm a policeman' - BANG! BANG!
He then shot all the witnesses, but you can't hide from the all-seeing eye of the law...
A number of entirely innocent people were gunned down as they walked down the road in full daylight. A mangled body of a former assassin was also found in the grounds of Churchill, but he is believed to have been retired.
Buttercup then went to Clare, where he killed PC Colin Towers with a deadly rubber band shot.
PC Steven Kitson succumbed to the more conventional method of being knifed.
Mark 'very much alive and well' Harman has decided to change his name to Mark 'just a bit dead and not very well at all' Harman, after a contact poisoning incident which left him an interesting shade of blue. The ghost of PC George was there to give him comfort in his last moments, and to reincarnate him as PC Mark 'better now' Harman.
In an increasing state of paranoia, Buttercup and Daisy then killed everyone on T staircase in Clare and all of the college's first year mathmos. The Clare authorities are reported to be a little annoyed about the loss of so many students, as their income from rent will go down dramatically.
Buttercup has issued death threats against a number of police. PC Mark has issued a statement revealing how much he will enjoy killing Buttercup by a most unpleasant means. Tomorrow should be interesting...
The body of Rachael Moss was found outside her room yesterday, with a
knife protruding from its heart. It is believed that it may have been
there some time, as students in Cambridge these days have developed an
overly-casual attitude to corpses, and stepped over it rather than
alerting the porters.
Last night at Churchill, in the pouring rain, an abortive attempt to kill the dreaded Buttercup went horribly wrong with the death of some seemingly innocent bystanders at the hands of the police. Buttercup is still alive and at large.
The ghost of PC George guided PCs Overkill and Nyth, with an accomplice, to where Buttercup was casually waiting. On being identified, Buttercup took flight and escaped from his pursuers, who appear to have been unbalenced by reason of carrying too much heavy weaponry. Buttercup's accomplices then acted as decoys so that he could get away, and were both shot by the police. Daisy was also shot.
The Umpire has taken careful consideration of the situation, and has decided that, since all the 'innocent victims' involved were obviously working for Buttercup and at least one, probably more, took part in the Clare staircase massacre, PC Nyth should not be suspended. PC Overkill also pretended to be the chief of police, so I leave it to the chief of police to give verdict on him for that crime. However, the police force cannot afford to lose any more members, as the seven day rule has taken effect and the guild protection has been withdrawn from a _lot_ of assassins.
Of course, the Umpire will take a dim view of any more killing of bystanders, and anyone killing a bystander not obviously working for a wanted criminal will be suspended.
Richard Hainsworth made the jump from the overpopulated section of the
wanted list to become one of Cambridge's Most Wanted today, when he went
on a little visit to PC Tom Monie. PC Tom had left his door open. Richard
went in, sat down and made himself at home. A little later Tom walked in.
He's now dead. Richard has let it be known amongst Cambridge's criminal
underworld what an enjoyable experience it was...
The police would have been in danger of letting their numbers slip below the number of wanted criminals, were it not for the further actions of Richard the Criminal, who, spotting Timothy Logvinenko looking like he was having a bad day, decided to put him out of his misery. It took some time for Timothy to realise that he had a bullet hole in his back, and should stop talking about quantum mechanics and die forthwith.
However, the evil Buttercup soon ensured that today's score stands at Police 1 - Criminals 2, by shooting PC Mark in the forehead as he walked past the fudge shop this morning. PC George's ghost was once again perforated as well. The Umpire would like to suggest that now is not a good time to buy any grey-looking fudge...
In other news, the cunning Leon failed to die to a mysterious business card left in their pigeon hole inviting them to a cryptic meeting that Leon assures me they will not be attending. Leon wishes to suggest that next time 'Quicksilver' should try adding some poison first.
Tomorrow's score is eagerly awaited by the scores of innocents around Cambridge looking to be freed from the menace of wanted criminals.
The Umpire would like to remind players that making visits to targets' rooms in the early hours of the morning, however wanted they may be, is a stupid idea and will not make you any friends. Some people have 9:00 lectures and get rather annoyed about this sort of thing. So don't do it, OK?
News just in - Richard the criminal has now changed the score to Criminals 3 - Police 2, by killing another criminal and policeman. Buttercup, watch out... Someone is after your reputation.
Louise Birch, in a spectacularly unwise move for a wanted criminal, left her door open. Richard the criminal paid her a little visit. Yet another corpse shot through the heart...
Next, Richard went after Fred Venturi. He was in the room next door but came out when he saw a suspicious character lurking outside. There was a brief exchange.
'Is this your room?' - 'yes' - BANG! - 'But I'm a policeman!' - 'I know. I'm a criminal.' - 'Fine.'
Fred then collapsed and began to stain the floor red.
Richard the criminal appears to have proved that he is not incompetent.
This is the early evening update. Today's score: Police 1 - Criminals
This report recently in:
"Haha! It seems that Judith "The Harp" has finally fallen after weeks of incompetence and inaction. PC Beast, PC George and PC Overkill decided to end Judith's reign as Clare's surviving assassin. Waiting cunningly outside her lair, the Beast used his influence as her (previous!) friend to gain entrance to her room, whereupon the rest of the team struck with devastatingly military efficiency. The Beast opened up with his trusty poison gas, whilst the other PCs used water cannon and .45 handgun respectively. The Dark Fox, having strange supernatural powers, appeared from nowhere clutching a bloodstained knife with which the Harp was repeatedly stabbed, before disappearing back into his own spatial dimension.
The police then partook of the Harp's copious supply of quasi-Scottish pancakes and homemade jam before continuing a reign of terror worthy of the NKVD."
The Umpire is not going to mention either sledgehammers or walnuts, however relevant they may be to the situation...
This is the very very late evening news. (ok, ok, yr. Umpire is skipping
the lecture held by Mr. Beige, the forgotten Resevoir Dog, to bring you
yesterday's kill report - sometimes the pressure of being in four shows at
once can mean a non-free end of evening...)
Bill Barnes found a very professionally contact-poisoned letter in his pigeonhole today, and died with the true satisfaction of knowing he had been killed by a master craftsman. Porters have complained about poison letters, as they clog up the pigeonhole area with bodies.
The death squad were out in force today, only to find that they had chosen the very day of the Cambridge Wanted Criminals' Annual Day Out (this would be the mystery coach tour followed by the dinner dance in Brighton then?). They have asked me to remind every wanted criminal that the police are coming after you, and common decency demands that you are at home when they do.
Richard the Criminal had rather better luck, putting the Beast out of action with a large hole in his chest when he foolishly opened his door. PC Beast was even polite enough to thank his killer.
A report has come in from a bystander about the shooting of an innocent victim at Fitzwilliam under the mistaken assumption that he was his neighbour. The Umpire would like to know who was responsible...
Shocked bystanders report PC Honohan diving into the Cam. Today, then, Cambridge has lost two police and no criminals...
Today's score : Police 1 - Criminals 0.
Simon Pender was coshed, gassed and finally shot in another police 'all guns blazing' attack. His ghost has expressed deep disappointment that it wasn't killed by being torn limb from limb, but he did at least get the full police arsenal... Still, I suppose if you are going to work under the nom de crime of 'Marquis de Sade', you deserve a little mistreatment.
Rather surprisingly, very little has happened since the last kill
Richard the criminal was seen at Christ's, but he seems to have interrupted a bizarre CD-player worshipping exercise in the room of one of the police, which left him so surprised that his gun failed to go off and so he was entirely unable to shoot the non-policemen involved...
Rumours that Richard is a slightly embarassed criminal are, of course, entirely unfounded.
Rather more surprisinly, nothing has happened since the last kill report.
Has someone changed my e-mail address without my knowing? Or are there really no more kills? If the situation does not change by tomorrow, a seven-day suicide rule will be introduced.
So much killing has gone on since yesterday that a mid-day update was
Cambridge's police showed their quality yesterday when the wanted list was drastically reduced, with five wanted criminals dying in one evening. Among them was Richard the Criminal; however, his place has been taken on the Most Wanted List by Con, who has entered to field of police-killing.
Sandy Morales would have joinbed the Most Wanted list for police-killing, had not the policeman in question (PC Bannister) slit his throat and stabbed him 79 times with a jewelled dagger first. Sadly, in his dying throes he managed to twist the knife round and drive it into the brave PC's throat.
PC Hope was rather more successfully ended by a dose of the contact poison code-named 'spearmint' in his orange juice. His bedder found his contorted body this morning, and Con's fingerprints have been found on the glass. He is now one of Cambridge's Most Wanted.
Although the delectable Richard Hainsworth had attempted to escape from the Police-force by retiring to Liverpool for the week, his plans were to no avail, as a cunning ambush set up by PC Bleasdale caught him off guard and peppered him (not to mention his door, bed and a couple of windows with bullets. The world will not miss him.
The report of the Death Squad is as follows:
1 Corruption in JCR elections at Robinson
After seeing propaganda "vote Stacey Blades for JCR President", bearing an accurate picture of her, deathsquad waited for her outside the room where she gave an emotional speech. She was cornered leaving the bar and shot 47 times in the back by PC Overkill. We left amidst the uproar of the apparent breach of democracy, being wrongly acclaimed as the goons of rival candidates. Stacey's cheerful ghost pleaded allegiance to Buttercup so her corpse was splattered all over the corridor with a deft shot from Ex-PC George with the squad rocket launcher.
2 Fall of the Valkyrie
Rapid machinegun fire was reported at 4 St Clems Gardens. It appears that Overkill's XP65 automatic outclassed Valkyrie's pistol, which made no contact. A distraught male friend was left to dispose of her corpse. (Although, being large and dressed in black, seems to have alarmed to death squad, who knocked on the door expecting someone rather more female)
3 Death of a tutor
Dr Simonton was clubbed and then shot at with machinegun and rocket Launcher by Overkill and ex-PC George.
4 Bungled raid on Girton
Police attacking Wolfson court found themselves reading a notice "... The Teddy Bears' picnic..." er, guys, isnt this actually St John's school?
Thanks to PC Mansell, PC Bleasdale, PC Nyth, ex PC Ramshaw, exPC George (and Overkill, compiler of the Death Squad Report)
A general lack of news has resulted in yesterday's news becoming today's
news. The Umpire is working on this principle to see if yesterday can
become today, thus doubling the amount of time available for rushed
PC Page was found to have committed suicide today. It is feared that guilt at the murder of an innocent citizen who just happened to live on the same corridor as Buttercup may be the cause. Certainly the corpse of a red-haired girl was found in Buttercup's kitchen.
Guild protection has been withdrawn from Sugs, who announced that he was not scared of the wanted list or the Police. Police have been informed that he is 'waiting'; for what is unsure.
This report recently in from an innocent bystander:
"I was shocked to discover, on leaving the Pembroke Bar tonight, a
rapidly stiffening corpse of a man who I vaguely recognised as Oliver
Longden. The vague recognition was due to the fact that there was a
large amount of blood all over the place from some nasty looking stab
wounds in his chest.
The college authorities declined to comment on the incident; two deaths within Pembroke's walls in the last few days has certainly brought a tear to the eye of many, especially as one was the much beloved Gardener's cat, who was sadly laid to rest recently. When will this terrible slaughter end!"
The evil Buttercup, cop-killer extraordinaire and murderer of many
innocent victims, today met his end at the hand of PC Overkill.
A state of rejoicing has been declared in Cambridge; crowds of worshipping
Overkill-groupies were originally going to carry thir favourite policeman
through the streets on their shoulders, but it seems that he was in
Sainsbury's when they were looking for him and so they were unable to...
"Buttercup had his filthy petals wetted at point blank range by Nuttercop Overkill outside the Cockroft torture theatre. Buttercup's ghost howled in agony to see his corpse decapitated by Butchercop Overkill. It will be cleaned and mounted as a trophy and is expected to be for auction at tonight's party. The corpse was dragged along the ground to Christ's kitchens; PC Kelpie had said that something new was needed on the menu...
The Ghost of George is at last laid to rest.
So concluded Overkill's 45 th mission of the term"
There was also some kind of skirmish involving Sugs and his supporters recently, but reports seem to suggest that no-one important was killed...
Mark Snellgrove was brutally murdered by the Umpire with cosh and his
own gun today for threatening a penguin in an unpleasant way. He was
already dead, so the Umpire sees no need to disqualify herself...
On a vaguely related note, it is suspected that certain ex-PCs (mentioning no names, George and Mark) may be feeling a little as if they, too, have been bashed on the head with a penguin.
The Umpire also deeply regrets the removal of the extra brain from her room, as it would have come in very useful for supervision work.
The perforated corpse of Ricard Atkinson was this afternoon found behind the bike sheds at Churchill. Porters have refused to speculate on what he was doing there, but it appears to have involved a gun and a masked man...
After a meeting of senior Cambridge mafia bosses to discuss the dearth of kills and impending dearth of assassins, guild protection has been removed from Sarah Keelan.
Matt Phillips has finally been laid to rest.
Yesterday's report from the Death Squad:
The evil Phillips had his door open, and Police in gasmasks stormed in. PC Kelpie sprayed lethal poison gas on the evil one, who begam to go green in the face and collapsed on his bed. He tried to hide behind his duvet cover to no avail as PC Overkill plunged a knife in his chest and expertly removed Mr Phillips' beating heart to add to Kelpie's lavish collection of "souvenirs", which includes Buttercup's head ( actually a painted melon ).
Overkill turned to see Kelpie writhing on the floor, a vicious poisoned dart of Phillips protruding from her arm. In great anger, Overkill hacked Phillips' corpse to pieces, causing some twenty centimetre diameter yellow bloodstains on the ceiling above Mr Phillip's pillow, revealing the sinister truth of his demonic anatomy.
Kings was also raided, and the evil crest of Kings Boaties was repainted in the cape and dagger sinister of the Guild on the noticeboard outside Sugs' room.
Overkill, reporting from Deathsquad.
As the sun rises on a new term, albeit briefly, the old game is gradually
drawing to a close. However, since there's supposed to be time for another
game to take place this term, the Five Day Suicide Rule(tm) has been
introduced to speed things up.
Be prepared for the old questions to be answered very soon... Who will win? By what method? Does Julie Soloway exist? What is the meaning of life?
Oh, and Happy New Year to the lot of you.
Carnage has begun again. Unconfirmed reports suggest Richard Chipperfield
may have been murdered by obscene balloon due to gallant police action.
Reports also of suicidal-looking assassins...
Full bloodbath report will follow tomorrow, when all deaths have been confirmed.
Last night saw a dramatic death toll, as Cambridge saw existential
despair and police activity take their toll on the remaining assassin
population. Very few now remain...
Police activity last night centred on Girton, with a daring balloon attack on 'Albert' using the new police mobilisation 'TAXI' system. In their own words:
"Rather expensive highly-motorised police stormed Girton today, on the eve of an international mafia reunion. A stalling-device was attached to the door of notorious police briber and mafioso "Albert" Chipperfield', in the form of a pair of moderately obscene balloons. " What the..." said the smartly-dressed mobster. " Richard Chipperfield?" Bang. A slender segment of brain began to slip fluidly down the remnants of his face as he slumped to the ground. A helicopter collected officer Overkill from the Chapel roof."
Builders yesterday set to work on improving the formidable security on Julie Soloway's corridor still further. Unfortunately, they decided to make the corridor section airtight and the locks impregnable; it is believed that Julie and her corridor have probably suffocated by now.
The King's Mafia, Sugs and Con, appear to have been caught in a dramatic explosion when Sugs' target-tracking equipment exploded due to a fly in the works. Firemen on the scene rather confusedly reported a smell of burning sprouts.
The body of John W Earl was found in his room, smothered by a large bowler hat. Police suspect a Trinity Porter. It appears university bedders have turned to them for help after a spate of sticky-finger situations from poisoned doorhandles over the last term...
A duel has been called, provisionally for this Saturday (the 24th); more details as and when they arrive. Non-corrupt police required to keep order. Robinson College will be the venue. Obvious cheating (taking all your friends in with you to protect you) not allowed, but what the Umpire can't see, she can't complain about...
The time had come at last. Three assassins faced each other in one last
bloody shootout in the maze of corridors and walkways that is Robinson
Only one emerged alive.
David Duffett (The Dark Knight), having maintained a cunning level of secrecy throughout the game, butchered his way to final victory in the Michaelmas game of 1997/98.
His was not the first kill, however. After tossing an Oxo cube to decide where they should start from, the assassins spread themselves throughout Robinson. Lurking over the rooftops, watched by ever-vigilent police, all seemed ungory until -
- a sudden shout alerted police to a skirmish in the bushes. Sarah Keelan, out searching for her enemies and sure in the luck that had kept her safe from innumerable poison-letter attacks, had stumbled upon Andrew Grantham, also known as the ferocious killer, Granny. As they rushed to the scene, the police discovered the twitching corpse of the woman who had hired most of them to help her win... A trail of blood led away, back into the college. Granny had survived.
The Dark Knight, meanwhile, was planning a rear attack on his rivals:
"Suddenly I heard some shots being fired in the distance; a few seconds later the death of Sarah at the hands of granny was confirmed to me. By this stage a crowd of police had gathered around me so I decided to leave my position to hunt my remaining adversary. I used the cover of the bar to get into the staircases. I then gave the police the slip, after all I didn't want them to give away my position. I was now in familiar territory alone, with only my insticts to protect me. After carefully searching the staircase I was now in, I could find no sign of granny. I now had a base to work from, which had only two entrances both of which could be watched at the same time. I ventured out onto the walkway and on peering around the corner I saw Granny making his way in my direction. I then made the mistake of looking out again, at which point he saw me, and he disappeared down a corridor out of sight. I moved my position leaving the door to my new staircase open so that I could shoot through it. After a short while as I began to creep out, granny walked through the door. We both went for our guns. But I was too fast for him. His body fell limply to the floor, blood pouring out and I smiled, knowing that I was safe, at least for a short while."
Congratulations go to David and many thanks to all who played. This is The Lemming (Lynnette Dray), Michaelmas '97 Umpire, signing off for the last time on the 24th of January 1998.