Back to Basics reports:
A horse I'd met earlier in the evening had informed me of a sulking juggler's death, so I wasn't surprised when he wandered into the comedien's tent. I'd neglected to ask the horse the time of the juggler's death, so it turned out to be a corpse on the other end of my orange blade. The surprising lively cadaver went to fetch 'something from his bag' ready for his resurrection in 15 mins, so I wandered off to get a burger.
Back to Basics reports:
Munching my burger I checked out the drum and bass tent, looking for some friends I'd got separated from earlier. To my delight The Incredible Sulk came in, so I stabbed him again, only to be told that there was still a minute to go.
Back to Basics reports:
So I stabbed the body at 1 second intervals, his heart kicking into action for a single beat before stopping for another 4 hours.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, yes... He was the other end a few minutes ago... Why couldn't he stay still?
I wasn't that obstinate about dying, and didn't go to the effort of drawing the gun I'd just retrieved for the purposes of trying to time it correctly...
My corpse returned the gun, ad I carried on enjoying the ball... all the way up to the ironically named survivors (incidentally the only point in the entire ball which I was alive for).
The Grocer reports:
The scene: a casino. A Crowd mills around.
The Grocer notices Lloyd and walks up to him.
Grocer: Hello Jamie (stabs him in chest with knife. Lloyd gives quizzical look)
Lloyd (bleeding): Oh Dear, I'm thoroughly dead.
Friend of Lloyd (with disgust) : What? You've come to the 4th best party in the world with a carrot!? to play some damn silly game?
Lloyd (dying): It's not a carrot, it's a knife.
Grocer: it is an extremely silly game.
The Grocer reports:
The Grocer, as grocers are only occasionally wont to do, was dancing to some funky shagadelic music.
The by now extremely familiar evil grin appeared, but a particularly friendly evil grin. The Grocer examined his conscience, hid behind a nearby tall person and then neatly stepped out to place one of his wares in Basic's chest.
Poetic injustice, possibly?
You-Know-Who reports:
Welcome back for the second leg of Murderous Psychos Wanderers vs The Christians it is 6am and the crowd is already cheering. After their recent defeat by the Overkilling Mouses, the Psychos really need to score today and they seem to have substituted a new player: he's in the left field, wearing black tie and has long curly brown hair.
Wait, that's Klinsman! And now the Christian defence starts moving towards him, they seem to play one-on-one this time. Oh, Morag is fixing something about her shoes, she doesn't seem to see him approaching...
And now it is too late, he has scored!
You-Know-Who reports:
Morag seems to try to alert her team, but Alex doesn't appear to notice, moving slowly towards the opposition's striker. And before he notices, he's been tackled from the side, a rubber band hits him in the stomach and the Psychos score again.
The Grocer reports:
After impressively surviving John's May Ball, despite spending a considerable period of the Ball dead, The Grocer appropriately went for the survivor's photo. And waited. and waited. and waited.
Some of us survived the wait, a photo was taken, and several hundred tired, more or less drunk, disarrayed persons attempted to get out.
Through this press the Grocer noticed an agitated figure keeping his hand close to his jacket pocket. it was a familiar figure, so the Grocer wend his merry way through the crowd, pulled out a dagger and stabbed the Sulk in the chest.
(It should be noted that, contrary to expectations, the dagger was not in any way vegetable)
The Incredible Sulk reports:
I was prepared ofr, and expecting to meet him... Thus I was watching carefully in front of me, and had my hand on a loaded gun...
He was beside me.
You-Know-Who reports:
Angela has noticed the striker moving into the penalty area. What does she try now!? She is trying to use the crowd to get to score! She seems to have a precise copy of Matt Laycock's device, but the Psychos' defence has watched out and she falls back. Now she is consulting the rest of her team. Then the opportunity: no opposing player seems to be in the way, she and Alex rush forwards! But it was just an off-sides trap, they are cut off from their own penalty area and you know who sprints in to score. Another hatrick!
Umpire reports:
Somebody please stop this Maniac !!!
You-Know-Who reports:
One of his neighbours (well, living in Angel Court) wanted to know, what 'Overkill' is... It's when this happens to you:
*noise outside the window*
*fullsizedmaniacalsqueak*
*ratatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatat*
*ratatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatat*
*MwwwhhhahahhahaMwwuuuhhhahhahahhaaaaaaaaaaaaa*
*ratatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatat*
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
I wasn't asking what overkill meant, I was asking if you were referring by the band of that name, due to the fact that you used a capital O.
You-Know-Who reports:
It's rather WHO Overkill is...
(Hint: look at the previous pseudonyms of Mr Anderson)
You-Know-Who reports:
Alohomora door! Expelliarmus! Lumos!
Avada Kedavra!
A flash of green light hits the poor Lloyd on his bed... And this time I checked carefully, whether there were any ancient weird spells (like an overkill curse lingering in the corridor) protecting my intended victim.
The Society Curio reports:
Whilst enjoying a meal of curry, rice and poppadom, my eye chanced on a duo of assassins, namely Juan Ramiresh and Insincere Dave, as they queued for their meal. My initial reaction was: "I will silently wait until they are seated, then destroy them", but then I realised they could notice me sitting there and gain the element of surprise. So I boldly leapt out of my seat, gun in hand, and ran towards them. Juan ducked away from the first shot, but he could not elude my bullets for long; I turned my attention to his associate and shot him, before he replied "I'm already dead, you fool".
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
It has to be said we weren't really trying. I may have been able to draw my gun had I not been carrying a tray full of meaty badness. Does the smell of the Hall canteen count as a weapon?
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Poison gas is not allowed in this term's game.
The Society Curio reports:
Having checked the Game News at 2.30pm, I see that Insincere Dave's assertion that he was already dead was erroneous, or at least not reported. Consequently my assassination of him is valid.
Insincere Dave reports:
I didn't say I was dead, you buttfuck. I said I couldn't be bothered to play anymore. Your kill reports are super-interesting!!!
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Let us contemplate what happened a few minutes ago. I was trundling along through Great Court in a kind of spiritual way. As before, the Society Curio, or TSC to his friends, tried to get me but was thwarted by the presence of a large patch of grass.
The Society Curio reports:
We eyed each other suspiciously across a patch of grass, until I, carefully chose my moment to break into a run. Despite my natural unfitness and tendency to get stitches from long running, multiplied by the fullness of my stomach from a good meal, I managed to gain on my opponent. I followed him across Great Court and through Angel Court to the side entrance to Trinity Street, then momentarily lost sight of him. At this point I made a miscalculation, believing him to have hidden himself in Y block; subsequent searching indicated he had eluded me. Presumably he left through the gate onto Trinity Street.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
A "good meal"? Curry's the worst food in hall. Apart from maybe salmon "caprice" or the chicken with bacon thing they sometimes. Or the mysterious things which they soup up.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
Met Messiah at lunch today when he suggested that he should donate some of his points to me. An offer I could not possibly refuse!!
Krimson reports:
The Society Curio and I were peacefully strolling in Trinity when we suddenly encountered Frightfully Vicious. He ran for it and then turned around with a gun, but I had already pulled out my gun in the pursuit and I shot him repeatedly before he could hit me. (At least that is what we agreed had happened in the confusion)
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Death number N, where N is 5.
I'm just entering Great Court after reporting the kinky attempt to kill me by TSC, when I bump into him again, with Krimson. I run away, while reaching into my pocket for my happy water pistol. Turning round, I fire and hit Krimson, while TSC stands and watches. There was uncertainty as to who had hit who first, so I thought "let's be generous" and conceded that I was dead. So I'm now temporarily in what infinity is to an analyst.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Popped over to kill Newboy again, She's finally back from popping home for a few days, so...
Knocked on door, said 'Hi', chatted for a bit, pulled gun from waistband of shorts, shot her, chatted more, left...
The Society Curio reports:
While browsing the shelves of the arms shop on Bridge Street, I came across two strangers who also seemed to be shopping for firearms (or is it my overactive imagination?) I returned the Cap Gun With Silencer I was looking at to its shelf (cap gun with silencer? What is the point of that?) and picked up a more innocent item. Luckily they didn't seem to notice me. I decided to leave my search for weapons until later and instead follow these people, hopefully to one of their rooms so I could positively identify them as an assassin. They led me to Paperchase (I think that was the name of the shop) and thence to Woolworths. It was while spying their exit from Woolworths from the door to Boots that I came across my twice victim, Juan Ramiresh of Spain, who joined me in my pursuit. We briefly lost them in Lion Yard, but then, as chance would have it, they walked right past us. Next they went to a shop on St Andrews St (I forget what it was called). Becuase this shop has multiple exits, we decided to break from our established tactic of waiting outside until they got out; we followed them inside. The fact that it seemed to be a Shop For Women's Stuff with two guys wandering around it must have aroused some suspicion, not only from trained assassins. Our indoorsness made it more difficult to elude their watchfulness, but we remained undiscovered (could it be that they are not assassins?) but, after my newfound accomplice told me to walk away from them quickly because they might be watching, we lost them.
The Society Curio reports:
Do these movements sound familiar to anyone? I'd love to know if you were really assassins or not.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Nah, they weren't assassins. BTW, the name of the shoppe was "Robert Sayle" an purveyor of perfume and night-goggles.
Robbin' Hood reports:
Robbin' Hood, Robbin' Hood,
Ridin' through the glenn
Robbin' Hood, Robbin' Hood
and his Merry Men...
(Bandit Balaclava, Friar Ski-Mask
and Maid Sock-over-her-Head)
shot our silent visitor
till the outer walls were red...
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
I was out upon a grand embassy to represent my subjects against the forces of deodorant. I passed Boots, then Robert Sayles, when who should I see but two of the vilest Robinsonian oppressors.
Fie!
Biding my time, I courageously shot Ms Rayner in the Back.
No longer shall my subjects suffer her hygienic fascism!
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
Immediately following my death-defying charge, Mr Churchill also suffered from a bullet.
Let it not be said that thy Emperor does not fight for his loyal populace.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
With time to kill this afternoon, I tried to do just that, but without success. When I returned, I saw what appeared to be Ed Nokes leaving my staircase. Realising that I'd probably be outgunned, I decided that the name of the game was to go round the houses to safety in a bathroom nearby, which I know and love.
Good old x squared sin 1 over x reports:
It wasn't very imaginative, and certainly not befitting my undifferentiable status at the origin.
I failed to find a suitable function in Emma which would have a discontinuity at The Faithful one's door. So I aperiodically wiggled my way up Q staircase and found Uncle's door. The area was inspected for ways in and activity, but sadly my opposing curve was well-behaved.
So: I knocked in a suitably vicious way without any prepared heinous lie. Didn't answer the paranoid query from inside. Then tried the doorhandle. Then ran away.
I gave a little almost-sinusoidal wave to the survivor from the end of North Court, and feeling none-too dangerous, diverged to infinity.
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
My dear old Mrs Faithful warned me never to trust any suspicious discontinuous functions knocking on my door, especially if they contain trigonometric frivolities. You should have let me know that it was x squared sin 1 over x when I asked! I was just getting my differential operator ready.
The Society Curio reports:
Having lost track of our prey, Juan Ramiresh and I decided to pay a visit to a certain member of Jesus College (who shall remain nameless to protect us from retaliation). We reached this fiend's room. Our plan was to quietly turn the door handle, just in case it was open (although this has never worked for me). As I approached the door, gun clearly visible, someone came out of the neighbouring room. Well, I thought, it could be my target. I enquired as to whether this was the case. The reply was no, but I was not convinced. On the other hand, something told me to be paranoid (I guess it's just that instinct we all have). In a moment of indecision, I looked for advice to my accomplice, who (and this is what I did not appreciate at the time) being out of sight of the victim, was unaware that this non-player had not emerged from the victim's room. Needless to say, he advised the rash action with a hand motion and now I have the blood of an innocent on my hands.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
In all fairness, her responses on questioning were delayed and dubious. It was done in the name of safety.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Oh dear... She will be annoyed...
At least, I assume it was me you tried to kill, if it was Christine, then te problem should be less...
The Society Curio reports:
Having failed to kill Tom Garnett, we turned our attention to one Christine Clarke, on whose appearance and location my ally had up-to-the-minute information. It was simply a matter of walking into a room full of people too busy immersed in the false world of television to notice me, then shooting the one matching our description. Our source turned out to be reliable.
The Society Curio reports:
It would have been nice if you'd told me you were already dead, Christine! But of course, the lure of television is such that one cannot hold a conversation while its evil rays shower our brains. It happens to the best of us.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Christine failed to notice our presence, even after her head had been shower'd in finest arsenic, and so we left despondently.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
She told me about this, and seemed mildly worried, and quite dead (from my escapades, not yours...)
Oh, and Ed - she wasn't at the ball either.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Well, there I was, in Pizza Express, with a mixed group, including at least one ex-assassin... When the person opposite me asked who I was, and why she recognised me...
She asked if I was an assassin, and I said 'No, not at all... well, yes', to which she replied 'Oh, me too - are you playing this term?', to which I replied 'No', and alluded to various friends (Spice, for one) who were. She said that she was, and was showing off her gun, so I attempted (clumsily) to draw and fire the gun from the bag at my feet - it was close, but the general consensus was that she fired first.
Not that it mattered, her being dead and all, as she belatedly realised.
In the interests of harmony, we made a non-agression pact, later rendered irrelevant by a certain psycopath.
You-Know-Who reports:
My Rubberbandicus curse got him just when the bus he wanted to take in order to flee from Cambridge was about to leave.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
TSC had already killed me 3 times and had tried to another 3, so I thought that I just had to get revenge. I knew that he was likely to be in the computer room after he went to dinner, which would be after the 5.30pm watershed. Looking round, I found him in exactly the same position where he had killed me 6 days earlier. I was thinking, "The broadsword or the rapier? The macho masculine way or the foxy feminine way?" In the end, I just stabbed him in a thrilling and amusing way. Joy was unconfined.
The Society Curio reports:
Actually, I was in the computer room to report on the events earlier tonight. I feel uneasy when in the computer room outside 9am-5.30pm and therefore only go there if it is necessary. Your guess was right by pure chance; the Fates are punishing me for killing an innocent.
The Incredible Sulk reports:
I was sitting next to Nick, who (curious about this whole assassin thing) asked how you killed somebody... I asked him to hold Angela's gun for a second, then shot him twice when he did, by way of explanation.
You-Know-Who reports:
Since Matt's return to Cambridge, I tried to kill him twice with the mighty Rubberbandicus curse when the window of his room was open, but each time he was to fast.
But today he trusted his location to a Fidelius charm and three times is a charm, so I found him and summoned the Archdemon of orange-gray vegetables, who devoured poor Matt.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
Returning back to my room after successfully killing TSC, I passed Burns's room with loud music coming out of it. He wasn't in his room, but the door opposite was ajar, which was where I soothed any burns he had with cold water. Everything in the garden was filthy.
Juan Ramiresh of Shpain reports:
Doubtless he was masquerading as a hip-hop fan in Grant Oddoye's room.
Krimson reports:
Strolling along King's parade I spotted a certain dangerous vegetable salesman not ten feet ahead of me. I hoped to be able to walk unnoticed behind a few innocent pedestrians until coming within range for my handgun. Unfortunately this becomes that much more difficult when said pedestrians are a decimeter too short, and I saw my intended target discretely take a carrot from a pocket. Doubting that this was to be offered as a sample of his goods I lifted my gun and fired many times, but was just out of range. I then retreated to avoid the carrot, turned and fired while the Grocer drew his gun, missed, ran out of ammo, ran, died.
Robbin' Hood reports:
quite irrelevantly, i'm in W22 Newnham for the moment. come round if you want to shoot me / a hygienic demise. there is still party food to be had *hospitablebow*
The Grocer reports:
There's not much more to add really. I was peacefully discussing my nice fresh produce with a customer, when the lurking shape of a man hove into view.
By heck, you lurk suspiciously, Johannes.
How kind of Krimson to fire only at my feet (and inaccurately at that). I should have hit Krimson with the first vegetable, but thankfully I had a fully loaded rubber banana gun with me to distribute my deadly wares. A fun little chase.
The Health and Safety Inspectorate reports:
Whilst making my way aimlessly down the Emperor's Parade, it suddenly came to me that the repetitive crunching noise that accompanied the first and third quarter points of my perambulatory oscillation was not, as I had previously though, the sound of my shoes striking artfully cut and shaped cobblestones, but was in fact the sound generated by half-a-million Nasty Little Smelly People simultaneously masticulating upon various items of grocery, most marked of which was the much-loved Daucus carota of family Umbelliferae.
Why their rabbit-like munching was in perfect quadrature to my gait was, alas, never revealed. But I disgress.
No sooner had I been overcome by the shocking halucinatory nature of this spectacle than did a vast horde of vicious uniformly continuous sinusoidal maps with a down-right nasty non-isolated essential singularity come charging towards me, mounted upon a gently conversing horsehorde.
"This report is very silly," thought I, as the peyote wore off. Happily, an analysis fug wasted no time in setting in and suspending my more common-sensical though processes, and the garden was Hausdorf'd from the House and the flowers and the bumbling natscis and other unmathematical fauna.
Then I woke up.
Then the sinusoidal horselords granted to me a vision of their Emperor, so I discharged a reasonable volume of water into an epsilon-neighbourhood centered about him of size sufficient to beat any umpirical delta. This should help the flowers to grow and prettify the garden.
Then I woke up, and shot the Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People for contravening the sacrosanct Heath and Safety Inspectorate regulations.
Then the nice nurse came with my medicine.
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
Aha!
I and my people were on the march against the deeply evil Inspectorate.
The Grocer reports:
And Aha! even more! I had the contract to supply this valiant if odorous army with diverse produce!
Good old x squared sin 1 over x reports:
Ahaaaa, Aaahaaa! I am quotable almost everywhere, as a suitably vicious counterexample for any occasion!
Mr Ed The Stalking-Horse reports:
"Wilbur, do you see that guy over there with the dodgy moustache and the large holdall"
"To be honest, Mr. Ed, I'm more worried about the strange and frankly vile smell round here. It smells a bit like.....mouldy carrot"
"Well, Wilbur, I like my carrots but I prefer them fresh."
"And that weird rhythmical crunching sound, d'you hear that?"
"Wilbur! He's running towards us"
"Mr. Ed! Mr Ed! My only true love! you can't die!"
(Wilbur Weeps as Mr. Ed bleeds)
Mr. Darn Smooth reports:
(My blood isn't smooth at all. It's actually quite sticky and left a large mess in King's Parade)
The Emperor of the Nasty Little Smelly People reports:
Fie!
Alas!
Alack!
My army is crushed and my kingdom in ruins! At the hands of the nebulous forces of Hygiene under the auspices of the Health and Safety Inspectorate!
You-Know-Who reports:
I was walking from Pembroke to Sidney via Newnham, because that way has less streetlights, hence preserves my nightvision and also might avoid certain evil characters. Then suddenly I saw Alex, Angela, Tom, Paranoia Personified and Macavity next to a punt. I drew my magic wand and cast the lethal Rubberbandicus spell and cast it at the three assassins in the group. However due to his undead nature it didn't affect Alex.
You-Know-Who reports:
However The Incredible Sulk standing next to Alex didn't react quickly enough (he could have unleashed his drago(o)n on me).
The Incredible Sulk reports:
Shit happens.
I had been all nicely paranoid for the previous 20 minutes, too... then let my guard down, while chatting to everyones favourite double-team.
Oh, I thought he shot me first, then the other two...
And where were you? We were expecting you all the way up to granchester, and you never showed... Terrible shame.
You-Know-Who reports:
How vexing that Angela was dead as well, otherwise it would have been my third triple kill in 3 to the 3 hours. At least the magic wand I used has 54 marks on it now, that's better than the evil Sirius Black managed in total (we all know he is guilty, don't we?).
The Grocer reports:
I cast my remaining Carrots in the general vicinity of the Cam in a first step to regaining my sanity.
Shall I ever bring myself to eat these dangerous vegetables again?
Mrs Faithful's Uncle reports:
I attended a social gathering tonight, feeling fairly safe, when suddenly someone started to fire a gun fairly loudly. My instincts took over, I had no choice but to shoot him in self-defence. Ok so I knew the person, and it turned out to be my own weapon, but he was bearing it unconcealed, and after all you can never be safe enough these days.
Frightfully Vicious reports:
I was just trundling out of my jolly room, when I heard people make noises outside. Fearing that somebody would try to concoct one frightfully vicious final assassination before the 12am watershed, my Pavlovian reaction was to return to safety healthily. TSC, who I had killed just under 4 hours earlier was there, saying that he was dead, which he was. However, I spotted the frightfully virtuous chap Ralph Owen lurking behind as well, and was suspicious about any other alive assassins trying to use their broadswords or rapiers. TSC claimed that good old Ed Nokes was there as well, and perversely invited me to be killed by him, so to say. Not sure whether to believe a dead person, I said I was prepared to wait until midnight and that there were other people to get their hands dirty with, like an applied mathematician. Even if I had been killed then, it would have been invalid as a dead accomplice was used: a mistake typical of simple-minded natural scientists. Joy was unconfined.
Automatic Umpire reports:
And... that's it! Game over, Björn Holzhauer has won (again)!
Produced at Thu Jun 21 19:33:39 2001 .