Day 1

He mocked our gaffer tape, he said he could untie himself in less then 10 min and if he couldn't we would be allowed to shoot him, so he got taped up and given 10 min after the game started free himself.

We tossed, who would be allowed to kill him and when I returned after that time, he was still there struggeling in vain.
First I cut him into bits with my chainsaw, then he was stabbed and shot and finally several CPS and buckets emptied on him.

At 11:15 I decided I'd pop round to see J and Bjoern before things got hostile. Chatting with them, I made an offhand comment that gaffer tape wasn't strong enough to hold me. A few minutes later I found myself tied very securely to a chair with 70m of gaffer tape, 2 belts, 2 straps, a ball of string and my own shoelaces, with a woolen hat over my head. They then dragged me into an abandoned room and gave me 10 minutes to escape whilst they tossed a coin to decide who got to shoot me first. I was confident that the answer would be neither as I reached for my concealed blade.... Argh! Fingers stuck to gaffer tape! Can't reach it!
Next plan: Laser in wrist watch? Gummed up with gaffer tape.
Backup plan: Call for help on my mobile? Tied to my pocket with gaffer tape. Oh dear. This does not look good.

So I went for old fashioned brute force. Unfortunately after 10 minutes I'd only managed to burst one of my bonds, so Bjoern shot me through the chest.

To add insult to injury my helpless corpse was then dragged outside
and subjected to a thorough soaking by the contents of three CPS's. And a bucket. The gits.

Final score: Me 0 - Gaffer tape 1

Well, in a little reunion of the certainly-not-the-Cornflake-Mafia,
myself, ¥ and Pork Chop Zingara found ourselves together for an hour before the commencement of hostilities. Talk turned to Gaffer Tape (as talk often will) and ¥ made a rather foolish bet:

"If you fix me to the chair with that tape, I'll easily be able to escape. If I haven't escaped ten minutes after the game starts, you can shoot me..."

Inevitably, we took him up on his offer; he was tied to a chair with 70 metres of Gaffer Tape, assorted belts and straps, several bits of string, and his own shoe laces. We two manhandled ¥ (now inseperable from his chair) out into an empty and abandonned room, tied a mask over his head, and gave him his ten minutes.

As the countdown counted down, ¥ struggled and stuggled, all to no avail - at ten past midnight, he had succeeded in breaking only the weakest of his bonds. The Pork Chop and I had previously tossed a coin, in order to decide which of us would be executioner in the unlikely event of him not escaping. As the winner, Zingara revved up his chainsaw, and promptly severed ¥'s bonds (and arteries, muscle tissues, skeleton, etc) in a brutal and messy manner...

Muahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!

...presumeably not the manner of release hoped for by the victim.

Then we moved the victim's remains out onto the balcony, for a good raking with multiple CPS-grade machine guns. The remnants of the remains were escorted to Grafton Water, and uncerimoniously dumped.
That should stop him from resurrecting.

First kill to Caius, methinks!

Having had an early night so as to be fresh for killing today (that and I was tired - cue sympathy). Got up to an extreme feeling of bloodlust. Found weapon. Loaded weapon. Considered options. Needed to use bathroom. It was occupied. Knocked. Door was opened.

Just shot Kathy in her nightdress. Suppose that'll be the last time she lets me borrow it then!

You would have thought, wouldn't you, that living with someone who you had happened to feed alcohol to last night, and was a housemate, would happen to leave you vaguely safe. You would certainly have thought that when someone knocks on the bathroom door when you're about to have a shower, asking "Can I have a go?", then there's absolutely no threat.

Git.

And then, just when my ghost was attempting to take a shower, Mr Tim DoubleCrossingTreacherousSwine Pike decided to reload his weapon from the kitchen tap, making the water go HotColdHotCold.....

I went to Slakko's office, but it was locked, I was disappointed.
Walking down the stairs I suddenly spotted him in front of the building walking towards Queens. Running after him, I caught up:
"Richer, Duncan Richer ?"
He turn around, fear in his eyes:
"Ahhhmm, no, I am..."
BANG

Well, I wandered round to the house of master Gill (and yes, I did go
to the right staircase this time), but he adamantly refused to be in.
In fact, he was still resolutely out after two hours, which I thought
was most unsporting of him. Anyway, the Uncle appeared (and I *just*
resisted the temptation to blow his head off), we chatted for a while,
I left a note marking my presence on Mr. Quinn's door, and then
ambled back to Sidney to find...

...


... absolutely no one waiting for me. Pretty disappointing, really,
given the number of people who were *supposed* to be killing me in
the first five minutes of the game.

Your patiently, but boredly,

Ghost Stalker

In wide, wide rings,
I walked round Kings'.
I met the deathmaster
and I drew faster.

Outside the plodge,
he tried to dodge,
he moved to the side,
but nowhere to hide.

I gunned him down,
under tourist frown,
blood was shed
and he is dead.

Ahah! Ah hah hah hah!

1st day of the blooodbath, and I go in search of victims.

But alas, they are not in. So I go from Harvey court to a certain staircase in Fitz. Or try to. Upon reaching the gate of King's, Bjoern appears, brandishing demonstrably inferior weaponry. However before I could demonstrate the superiority of my weaponry he blows me into chunky little kibbles. Hmmm. Maaybe a slightly smaller gun might make it morre accessable. Still, I'll go round later on tonight (ie as soon as I re-spawn) and show him just how good my gun is.

mmmghghmmmghmmmghh!!!!!!!

This is the Cross-dressed Cardinal speaking :

Aware of certain practices within the Guild, i've taken over this computer account, binding and gagging the habitual user with my frankinsense burner and a spare mitre. Isn't that right?

mmmghghghgh!!!

guess so :)

The Vatican Mafia doesn't tolerate the religious views voiced in the Cambridge Student.

Just after lunch, as we were innocently wandering round the Catzedral,
we spotted Antoine reading the above-mentioned satanical rag...

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Inquisition Post-Mortem
-----------------------

Large hole where the lungs used to be. Looked like a dissapointingly quick method.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, I was having a belated lunch in the garden with several of my
friends, when one of them asked to see my gun. After establishing
exactly *which* gun he meant, I duly offered it unto him, me being
the fine purveyor of death dealing weaponry that I am.

However, he was not content with just holding it, and chose to unload
it into the nearest target. Which happened to be my bum (I was
pouring lemonade at the time). Whilst some may find this vastly
amusing, I didn't, so hence I perforated his chest with several
throwing knives.

Well pooh.

It's just not been my day, is it.

I wandered over to St. Marys (or was it Michaels? or possibly both?!)
Court in Caius, to do battle with The Evil Test Player Puppetteer,
and effected a greatly cunning entrance to his staircase via the
front door.

I stalked up to his door, taking great time and care so that no one
would notice me (other than three of his neighbours, someone who,
came through the front door, and the guy who came up the stairs
carrying laundry). I knocked most loudly, and bade him to emerge and
do battle. Curiously enough, however, he was uneager to accept the
challenge, due in part to the fact that he wasn't in.

In fact, not only was he not in, but he managed to beat Master Gill's
record by a factor of two, and not be in for /four/ hours!

Fnargh!

I could have killed him twice in that time, had he had the decency to
visit his own room once in a while. As it is, I vented my anger in
rubber band form at his fridge (well, you'd be pissed off with a
fridge which had hummed arrogantly at you for the past four hours),
before collecting the valuable (and curiously recyclable) ammunition,
and heading off home.

And would somebody *please* try to kill me - there's been a pathetic
lack of two-way gunfire on my staircase of late, and it's feeling
quite dejected.

Yours impatiently,

The artist-not-formerly-known-as-"Ð"

Cunning agent Lactophob spotted the spaghetti mould at the Archimedeans garden party.
Taking position outside I waited for Seb to leave, but he kept on playing Croquet, so I had to wait until the party's end.
At 17:00 it was over, so I casually walked in, sneaked up behind him and put 12 nice holes into him.

Oh no! More Vatican politics...

Fearing our Emissary to be a potential rival for the Papacy, i decided it was time to take some preventive action. In other words, i went to Jesus's Chapelcourt in the pious robes of a nun. After all, the real Inquisition must be re-established.

He was walking to the Basilica but saw me and retreated to his hermitage with a wide run round behind. He then started to brandish Satan's Own Flamethrower - most unholy - as i ran into his cloisters, leaving the Cardinal's Informer to survey the staircase. She has to say:

The Emissary advanced stealthily down the stairs. A huge tounge of fire burnt through the side-door into the basement. A narrow beam of Uzzi fire returned parallel to it, narrowly missing the grinning Emissary, who then cut off the basement. Surely the Cross-dressed Cardinal had no chance down there? Um, except that now she was behind me, minus a Gatling gun and a sharpened crucifix...

Once in the cloisters, i realised that my position was anything but
comfortable. But, i then discovered that Jesus Basements were... interesting. I thus re-entered his cloisters via the frontdoor,
nevertheless compelled to abandon some equipment... i then realised the emissary had left his cell open. He may have my guns but i have his ROOM *grin*

His cell was "no Satanical Flamethrowers", so he emptied my
Gatling gun into his room, fortunately missing. I didn't

*pats Luger*

Now the route to the Papacy is open... *megalomaniacgrin*

Recovering from my earlier demise, I have things to do. Not the assassins game, more like dinner. So off to cafe I go. But who is this? Walking down the path towards me is Pope innocent XV! Taking a quick detour I aim to avoid conflict, but she pursues me, toting an insultingly small gun. Fleeing in a fit of enhanced self preservation instinct, I evade her long enough to come upon her from behind, but alas! She is warned by her acomplice! So I scarper to my room to upgrade my own laughable weapon fit. emerging from my room I am gratified by a shout of "Jesus! Get down!!!" Nice gun, huh?

Claire flees to the basement and after some nore manouvering I realise that the cunning minx has gone into my (carelessly unlocked)room. Stealing her gun (I can't shoot into my own room) which was cast aside, I open fire through the window, but superior fireing positions ensure that my demise is inevitable... And so, soon I die. Ho hum.....

Next time, Claire, next time.

I then stormed the Pope's Piazza di Porco Azzuri summer retreat.
I regret to inform you that Pope Daniel is no longer with us. Except for his sillouhette, done in Gatling-gun bullets that is.

I now proclaim myself Pope Innocent XV *BWWWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH*

My first Bull is:

"Urbi et orbi, Protestantibus will BUUUUUURRRRRRRRNI"

I optimised my way to Newnham, in order to solve the Dual Problem of Axolotl and the Cross-dressing Cardinal. Cunning use of Linear Programming led me to the Salamder's lair, whereupon a Simplex solution presented itself: The Newt - spotted entering the hallway by our Survalance Network (TM) - was reduced to an Infeasible Basic Set by application of a rubber-band gun. Unfortunately, a Saddle-point was encountered in the search for the Cardinal, so I returned home.

I was alone, unarmed and unsuspecting. I opened a door and had no time to dodge or shut it before I got shot. At least the death was relatively pain free!

Whoops. Damn that Laycock fellow, damn him and his very eyes.

He crept into the computer room just as I finished writing up my last kill, and brutally shot me and the adjacently situated Pierre-Luigi-What'sisnamenow. My band-gun jammed as I tried to retaliate, but I was too slow anyway.

Bah.

Having reccied the area I determined that the probable location of the evil mastermind Yuri Suhov was the computer room. Trying the windows proved fruitless so I settled for the "charge in and shoot anything that moves method".
This worked.
Yuri was fast in realising the danger - but he was *not* faster than a speeding bullet. Or 6. Muhahaha. Revenge is sweet!

Sitting in the computer room next to Yuri Suhov, I was happily browsing the assassins-webpage, when suddenly the door burst open.
At once I reached for my gun, whilst gunfire from a semi-automatic started ripping Yuri apart in his seat.
Bleeding from about half a dozen wounds in his chest he sank to the ground, already ¥ was diving around the corner I was sitting behind opening fire without seeing me.
By the time he could, I had started firing as well and we emptied our magazines at each other from 1m apart, but alas he hit first and put about half a dozen shots into me.

¥ be warned: I just bought some new gaffer tape.

Sitting next to Yuri was Pierre the Mafiosi. He'd have got me but for the unfortunate tangling of his gun in his shirt. Awwwww......
5 bullets at point blank range sorted that problem out.

Reading news. Heard giggle. Saw red light coming towards me. Two bits of me. Am news.

Revenge for this morning. Having wined and dined Tim, I then cut him in half with a lightsabre. Well, it's only fair, isn't it? After all, it keeps losing to the light side (actually, it just falls apart...), so I needed a target that worked...

Oh yes, and has no-one asked what Tim was doing in my nightdress this morning?

As I sat on the floor of my room by the door,
Where you'll find me for most of the night.
Along cam LMD, with a gleam in his eye,
He saw me, and shot me on sight.

I must say that is was quite professionably done,
With a swift shot all clothed in his best,
As I'm sure you'll all know, it is a great insult,
To be inhumed by someone ill dressed.

Ach! It's late, I must get some sleep,
With the fishes it seems for tonight,
I'll be around to get you, LMD soon enough,
And then you will get a fright.

Oh and while I'm here, it seems hard to resist,
The temptation to blatantly plug,
The CULES May week show, "Wind in the Willows",
In which you'll find my beautiful mug.

Love and huggles and motor cars,

HQ

Beautifully said, Mr. Quinn. Truely, the things that distinguish us from mere murderers (or terrorists) are our care and attention to the smallest of things, our sense of honour, our respectibility... for we assassins surely are gentlemen above all.

Just after resurrection we went over to Braeside, to Stu's room to be more precise, which was open - so Ed shot him with the 40 in one hand and the rbg in the other.

Unfortunately, I failed to kill a non-player bearing weapons. Not only did the non-player fail to ask to see my gun (how could I have refused such a request, being the fine purveyor of death dealing weaponry that I am?) but he conspicuously did not discharge the thing into my posterior region.

Why? Because this non-player was completely ficticious. Such a non-player is very rare, commonly found only in and around Sidney Sussex. It muct be a very lonely place, but if any Sidneypersons wish for a little bit of fun, why don't they come to Harvey Court, eh?

Come on Dave, we're waiting. :-)

News from day 2 (Friday) * Back to main page.