!CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic!
!CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic!
!CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic!
The assassin Kirika has made an atempt on the life of somebody who was apparently trying to kill her. The innocent victim opened his door to a hail of gunfire at about 8am this morning. Having realised that his information was faulty, the assassin then proceeded to gun down two more innocents on their way to a supervision, while screaming "You're ALL working for Soldats aren't you! You're all out to kill me!". Psycoanalysts believe that numerous warnings about people out to kill him, and a lack of ttempts on his life, have driven this physcotic killer Mad! Apparently being barely constrained by his own good nature, he walked down the street without shooting any civilians! however, all agents are warned that this killer may well go on a police execution raid. Death is likely to result from a meeting with this agent. Part of the double team known in the underworld as NOIR, watch out for those around him also.
!CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic!
!CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic!
!CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic! !CIA FLASH Traffic!
Dr Jekyl and Mr S. N. Hyde is sad to report the prescence of a new and exceptionally dangerous individual loose on the streets of Cambridge. After numerous anonymous kill threats but no attempts, made against fellow assassin Kirikia, Kirikia was driven to the point of making a strike against his cowardly non assailant. Sadly Kirikia's information on the whereabouts of his taunter was faulty and as a result an innocent jesuit was gunned down. In the considered medical opinion of Dr Jekyl the constant unacted upon threats drove kirikia over the brink of insanity and into a persectution complex and a very dangerous state of extreme paranoia. This unbalanced state of mind resulted in a minor killing spree by kirikia who opened fire on two more individuals coming towards him up the stairwell who he in his unbalanced state took to be assassins summoned by the sounds of his earlier shots. Sadly they too proved to be innocent. Unfortunately I had reverted to Mr Hyde by this stage and by the tiome my conflicting personalities had sorted themselves out and Dr Jekyl was on hand to offer medical help to the two innocents they had died. Dr Jekyl took compassion on the obvious insanity of Kirikia, his medical training and the hippocratic oath preventing him from killing an individual so obviously insane and unaccountable for his actions. He managed to disarm Kirika by peacful means and escort him off the premises steering him clear of innocents in case a new crazed murderous fit should occur. Dr Jekyl and Mr Hyde have held a mental vote on the matter and came to the unanimous opinion that it was our job to warn the assassins and police of cambridge of this highly dangerous individual. Dr Jekyl hopes that the police will in the light of their exemplary treatment and understanding of other insane individuals in this town, not hold kirikia responsible for his actions. We would suggest that the murders commited by this individual were obviously inacted in a state of insanity and diminished reponsibility and as such should be viewed as a medical and not criminal matter. We hope this opinion will be confirmed by the acknowledged expert on such matters Chief Psychiatrist and Senior Lobotomist Gen. Colin Powell. Please do not approach kirikia as any contact with other assassins may activate a new fit of paranoia and resulting killing spree. I Dr Jekyl would like to call for comppasion (Mr Hyde though not qualified in such medical matters agrees), please do not approach this man until skilled psychiatric help can be sought he is armed and dangerous.
FLASH TRAFFIC!!!FLASH TRAFFIC!!!FLASH TRAFFIC!!!FLASH TRAFFIC!!!
NSA Intercept from reputed EmMafia Source, codename:Duck The assassin Kirika has been sighted within the confines of Emma!
Apparently wise to the vicious attacks of the specially trained Emma assault ducks, she viciously gunned them down, casulties estimated at 50%. We demand that you hunt down this criminal and terminate her. We cannot allow this mass murder to continue! We also report that Kirika knocked for Tim Underwood, finding that he was not home.
Following this, she wondered around Emma, shooting innocents at random. And some of those who walked past her survived, not knowing how close they had come to Death! Total innocents killed, 6 or 7. It would appear that whe could not find staircases M or U, and thus did not attempt to kill many of the policemen here in college. She did however, try to use a lame ploy to try and convince PC Cath Een to open his door. She failed, then hastily retreated out of Emma, looking very paranoid and confused.
Some very nasty person knocked on my door at nine o'clock this morning. NINE!!! It's a Saturday!!!!
"Who is it?"
"Me"
"Who is it?" (Puzzled)
"Are you going to come out so that I can kill you?"
"Nope"
"Damn you"
I called backup, but it didn't arrive for about half an hour, it being a Saturday morning and all. By which time the less than dedicated assailant had left. Perhaps they had lectures this morning, I don't know.
I also don't know why anyone would want to attack an innocent policeman. I have my own private suspicions as to who would launch such a dastardly attack.
About nine o'hour this mornitude it was alerteringed to me that somebodyone were knockerising on my door. Not persistitudingly, but this cop turnertwistered over and regotten unconciousness - this cop had been upwoken up by a fire siren at 4am.
on Sat February 2nd at approx. 11.10 I *finally* checked my pigeonhole and so found the deadly origami fortune teller. Fortunately I had gloves on and it went straight in my bin. Sadly, my father, who always was easily distracted by colourful objects, and was going through the contents of my bin (god knows what he was looking for) found it and, before I could stop him, went the way of the curoius cat. Later that day (about 10 p.m.) I was sitting in the kitchen, feeling orphaned, when two dark shapes moved outside. They entered the kitchen, one of them brandishing a gun, the other a rolled-up newspaper. I excused myself to fetch a jumper and, feeling juuust a little edgy, went to arm myself. I returned to the kitchen, where they were conversing with my friends. I decided to err on the side of caution and whipped out my spud gun, shooting the leader in the chest. Anyhoo, they weren't really assassins, but they were armed. All the same, it was not a good day for innocents.
Well, they deserved it. Incidentally, Jenny Hellfire reported so late because she was out of Cambridge for a while, but she is now back, and playing.
An (assassin) friend and I were leaving a lecture, late, with extreme caution because I am aware there may be incompetents out there who know me as a threat and who I am not yet aware of. We got a couple of metres out of the door when I saw Chris Watling, who played last term, sitting on a chair and holding something in his hand. He saw me and flashed an *absolutely maniac* grin at me, at which point I shouted "F***! Get back in!" and ran into the door to the lecture theatre, which you have to pull. I scrabbled at it for several seconds until my friend opened it and we ran away very fast through another exit, got completely lost in the Department and ended up pulling three guns on an innocent civilian who was behaving strangely. We wandered round the bowels of the Department in a state of absolute terror until a kindly member of staff showed us the way out. Some might call this cowrdly, but we prefer "paranoid".
Chief Avada
Opening scene, Kirika standing above the bodies of her once friends (about
15 of them, non who were actually playing, but whom she shot outside the
lecture theatre prior to entering as some of them had been known to shoot
people):
"One of you must have been a spy for Soldats! They know where I am. They're
going to try and kill me after lectures!"
(Kirika enters lectures and sleeps for a few hours)
(Cue the violins!)
Kirika steps outside the lecture theartre. She sees a group of people
standing around talking who aren't normally there. One of them reaches
inside his coat, pulling out a plastic bag. At this stage Kirika pulls out
her pistol, points and fires. Nothing happens, it was jammed. But wait, that
wasn't a plastic bag! It was a gun. Easily dodging the bullet, Kirika runs
around the side of the building, pulling a sub-automatic rifle out of her
bag as she does so. She stops, readies it for firing and then turns around
and purposely strides back towards the man running towards her. The man
shouts "I'm unarmed" somebody nearby(who I had previously shot, but is not
playing this term) shouts "He's a wanted criminal!" The guy then shouts
"It's OK you got him!" Knowing that I had not, I followed him, showing due
care not to walk into an ambush. The group had moved up some stairs, and was
standing about talking:
"Its OK you got me with that pellet gun, I'm dead."
"I think it jammed, but your dead now!"
(Kirika blows the head off the guy, just in case)
"I still think you got me"
(Kirika points pistol at an innocent, pulls trigger. Nothing happens)
"No, it jammed!"
Kirika retreats, next stop, the police meeting.
A friend of the deceased reports:
Saturday lectures, why bother going I wonder, I've had less than two hours sleep, so am not in the best of moods. Ah ha! I recall that the last surviving member of my mafia bar me has a target that we intend to 'do' after lectures finish. So, we leave lectures quickly (around 12ish), and commence loitering outside, waiting for the target to leave. As he does, Mat Varughese reaches for his trusty OPG (Orange Pellet Gun). The target goes for his at the same time, and both shoot at the same time. Woe is me, The Player is on the ground, blood gushing from a shot to the chest, while his own round was cruelly sent off target by the gusting wind. The assassin of my comrade then ran off to hide behind a corner, to prepare his other weaponry. I bravely moved forward, unarmed, under a flag of parley, to just outside of his water pistols range (At least I hoped it was), to inform him that his assassin was dead. "I'm already wanted!" comes the cry. I respond with the ever so eloquent "Shit!" and legged it at top speed, shouting "Run, run, run" at the top of my voice. I heard the impact of his first shot just behind me as I ran, so I decided to keep running. Allegedly, he took out a couple of innocents on his rampage, and he certainly shot at me when I was unarmed, so if he is not wanted, he should be now.
He is - very much so!
A witness:
I'm just writing to say I witnessed a kill after lectures about 12.00 today, on the New Museums site. As I was getting on my bike to go back to college, someone walked along with two giant guns declaring that he was wanted so could kill anyone, and promptly fired at someone about 15 metres away. I escaped as quickly as I could to avoid getting caught in any crossfire. About 8 witnesses in total I think.
Having gone to an official police meeting, I conffessed my sins to the CAttAC. However, when challeneged, he refused to have an honourable duel. He said I was wanted, and thus I fled that place, knowing I had only moments before my death! Walking down the street, the CoP came cycling past, waved to me, and was then shot in the head by a burst of machine gun fire.
Having been truly excessively paranoid all this morning, including running away from an innocent non-player outside lectures, I was on my way to join Gen. Powell and his SWAT team for some incompetent bashing. However, running late, I foolishly decided to take the obvious (road) route to the meeting place. Cycling innocently along the street I saw Kirika about 20 metres away walking along the pavement with his hand under his jacket.
Do I turn and cycle off? Too late, really, and there's traffic.
Do I get out the pellet gun from my pocket? Or the RBG from under my coat? Or the killer lizard? No, that would make me a legal target, and I cannot be 100% sure he would recognise me as police. Anyway, I believe he offered to help Gen. Powell with the incompetent bashing, and I checked the website less than half an hour ago- nobody wanted. He's probably just involved with the SWAT team, hence knowing where they are (he is walking away from the meeting, and is likely to have just left it rather than to be randomly passing) and anyway why would a criminal be leaving the area where many police are congregated, without pursuit? I take my hand off my RBG and wave brightly.
He then pulled out a super soaker, and I have left it far too late.
There is brief but rather sharp pain.
To Gen. Powell:
"All around me darkness gathers,
Fading is the sun that shone.
We must speak of other matters.
You can be me when I'm gone."
I wish him joy of it.
I was brutally shot to death this afternoon by PC Borge W Gush under the instruction of the Assistant Chief of Police. It was a planned strike and illustrates the sheer scale of corruption within the force.
General Powell:
Having learned that PC William Walter was not only clearly corrupt to the Baby Seals mafia, but had also twice attempted to set the police force up, especially the senior officials, it was decided by the (then still living) Chief Avada and myself that he should be brought to court and tried.
Upon learning of the death of our esteemed Chief, and suspecting that further attacks on the Police could be imminent, I issued an arrest warrant, which Agent B.W. Gush attempted to carry out. Unfortunately, PC Policepro violently opposed the arrest, and was shot while trying to escape.
Feeline somewhat bold after a Saturday morning lecture, i decided to give the Capitalist mafia group a visit, who apparently launched 2 assaults on my room with the BF RBG and an army of reinforcements (but being the amateur assassins they were, failed miserably). I entered the HQ without difficulty, but the thunder was already stolen by a wanted assassin who claimed that he just killed the Chief of Police.
As gentlemen i would expect that there was a mutual sense of sportsmanship, as such it would have been possible to meet the mafia group, then leave without a scratch as i had i shown no aggression towards them in this incident. I should have known better to convey such trust of a well-mannered conduct by these scheming bandits, who apparently sent one of their men to hack the forementioned wanted assassin in the back with a katana as he left the HQ.
In the commotion, i ran in the other direction allowing myself to escape from the evil clutches of these amateur criminals (crime purely due to breach of gentlemanly conduct of this elegant game). I am certain that I shall not share such mercy and our next encounter.
A relaxed walk towards Kings today brought me to the charming college of Trinity Hall. Posing as a charity committee official I managed to prise open the door of Tinky Winky... A stab to the heart came to her as soon as I bored of the pretence.
This fine afternoon at one thirty, I did travel to a police briefing at the charming (and beautifully kitchened) Jesus College Library Court, wherein I first witnessed the dying gasps of former chief of police, then the appiontment of her replacement, the most well-qualified General/Chief Psichiatrist/Senior Lobotomist Colin Powell, and the new CAttCoP Cath Een. And then Agent Borge W Gush earned a neat promotion for executing a rather miffed looking corrupt officer. Following this turn of events, it was time to commence the greatly anticipated INCOMPETENTS ROUNDUP!
I accompanied the finest, most forceful law-enforcers in the law enforcement force: Borge W Gush and Colin Powell.
Target #1: Alex "The Killer Mind in a Gorgeous Body" Angel
Upon entering Trinity College, we searched high and low for that elusive, evasive being: K staircase. Having located the well-hidden entity, we went up the stairs, weapons drawn and primed. Knocking tentatively on the door, there was no response. Knocking less tentatively on the door elicited silence. Bashing rather aggressively on the door with malice aforethought produced bruised knuckles.
So we checked with a neighbour of the assumed target. "Is Jenna in?". "Jenna? No, Mike lives there."
Wrong court. Bollocks. (And we call them the incompetents?!?!)
We fought past hordes of tourists to reach the correct K staircase and apprehend "Alex Angel", but knocking elicited, again, nothing. Let it be known that wasting police time is a crime, and being out when we want to arrest you is most definitly an example of this!
Fleeing for my life, I went to the sanctury that was games and puzzles. Having discovered what I had done, the G&P people felt righteous anger, and threatened to kill me. I fled. As I was running down the street, a large man with a big sword cam running past me. He threw his sword at me, and I shot him in the back as he went past
Having returned to my den, I recieved a message telling me to await the arrival of the Knights of Cambridge, a test from Soldats!
Could all these people be working for the mysterious orgnization Soldats? Are they all out to kill me!
The gun was not properly loaded, and did not fire - Exquisite Corpse is very much alive.
Now you see some little bunny came into our shop, and gave us an offer he said to us "Hey dudes" or some other colloquelenism "I've just gunned down the chief of police... How cools that". "Do you want to help me take out Mario, it would be a blast and you could replace him with some nice puppet Head of Police"...
We went "WOH, cool, so your suggesting we go out and hunt down Mario, Kill him, strip him of his title and then replace him with our favourite candicate who is Mario. That's a really good plan, where do we sign up."
Anyway he then tried to challenge us to a duel, he likes duels does this ickle rabbit. We had to turn him down. The rabbit was obviously adjectated by this and hopped from foot to foot... in his adjectation he realeased the pressure on his gun... note this it becomes important later... Any the rabbit did decide to hop out the door.... At which point I grabbed a big big sword thing, thinking to bludgen the bunny to death...
Unfortunatly my run by dicing did not work.... Mr. Rabbit tried to shoot me and not really surprisingly managed to lightly mist my arm... as the gun wasn't pressurised. I carried on running.... not being a fool... as the rabbit hopped up and down in anger.
PC Bulldog reports:
Target #2: Sen~or Rambo F. Ollow-through
Waiting outside the *correct* door, there was the sound of frantic weapon loading after we knocked. I was standing in the kitchen when a spray of water shot out of the door, but a small orange bullet from General Powell's frighteningly realistic (ridiculously long-ranged) rifle ended this firefight. One down, 19 to go.
~~To the esteemed umpire, Friar S.Y.Hole in notification of an important happenstance.~~
Beneath the furrowed brow of Sir Reginald W. Bannister, lay eyes that have seen many exciting and gory maimings, in particular by small metal spheres and chainsaws. However, all of his hallowed experience in fighting the forces of spherical evil would not even begin to prepare him for the story of the extinction of the notorious F.Ollowthrough. And so beginneth the tale:
In Blue Boarian chambers did reside
a fiend of cunning bold.
He lived in shameful toast-filled ways,
his trousers were quite old.
Nefarious villains came and went
but he was none the wiser.
For he hid and played he wasn't there,
the deceitful rotten miser.
They came in packs of three, or none,
and pondered on their plans.
But Rambo squatted sulking in squalor
watching films of Jackie Chan's.
If only he had Jackie's lethal skill
and poise with weapons deadly.
He may not have had to endure the fate
that is now related by this medley.
For Sir Mario, a gallant knight had come,
with his squires, Luigi and Peter Frampton
to rid the land of this foul obscenity;
a stain on the good name of Cambridgehampton.
A voice of honour, blue and true
sounded, harking of the woe
that came of trusted colleagues dear
ignoring friend and foe.
The sermon preached as follows:
"Cousin Sven! He's here!"
"Cousin, come on in! Say something intelligent!"
Of course the reference to the chieftain Cousin Sven-Valhalla McO'Bjo/rnchester van der Wagondandy L'Ho''lzenhauer-On-Ass, was a clue all too revealing of the redneck's awful task.
The wise cad heeded not the call;
the cowboy was keen on duelling.
He tried to count the stools he'd curled,
but found it all too gruelling:
"One, Six, Yirteen, Eight!"
The insiduous remark was too much to take
and the dunce unsheathed his laser.
He reached for his trusty can of beans
and his trousers were quite old.
A further summoning did beget
the heathen's troubled trousers.
And stood did he on mountains bleak
and contemplated trousers.
The Trouser unsealed the gates of woe
and took a deadly chance.
But the Shoe be-soiled his trousers.
For in fact the Waistcoat had taken a cunning stance.
On one Bumcheek he squatted,
and his Trousers were cleverly pleated.
But his first shot was true, the aim was dandy
and the Bow-Tie was defeated.
The hillbilly stayed long enough to hear
the slain heretic's last wishes:
"That Tom Hanks be kicked repeatedly in the balls by Chevy Chase,
and send De Caprio to swim with the fishes."
And so endeth the tales of yore, the land is no longer troubled by evil Sasquatches.
Yours,
W.T.L?.A.T.Police.
On behalf of Arnold Q. "Peter Frampton is Fucking Shit" Groindoily.
~~~End of Report~~~
Congratulations to Mister J who wins the first prize in the PC Agent Prize Draw - an all-expenses paid death in the kitchen by rubber-band gun. Other prize winners will be notified by being shot. Time: 14.36.
Samuel Ashwell was peacefully writing his memories in the coffee shop at King's when I
arrived.
I ordered a coffe and sat with him and started talking about I Chings.
I was hesitating wheter to kill him or not, that is why I decided to ask the
I Chings what would be the right thing to do.
888/444/484/484/448/488
SHIH HO: it is favourable to let justice be administrated.
BANG!
Stupid F**king White Man died instantly shot to death.
Let us sit upon the ground, and tell stories of the death of King's.
Sadly, this term my energies were not much directed towards Assassins. A malevolent lethargy had crept upon me, leaving me barely enough energy to spend far too much money on weapons, and none for actually using them. Accordingly, I felt the shame of incompetence but lightly, and was in good spirits while drinking far too many lattes and writing far too pretentious pseudo-literature in King's coffee bar this afternoon.
At about three o' clock, I was greeted by Razmatazz, who inquired my room number of me. Since I was fully aware of his assassin status (and such an enquiry could have only one intention), yet had little zeal left for the Game, I did not pull out my sidearm and kill him on the spot, but replied truthfully, adding that since I was now incompetent, he may as well kill me. He replied in ambiguous terms, suggesting that my involvement with the King's mafia (may all praise its name) would save my life. We then discussed various points of the I Ching and whether philosophy had any non-linguistic meaning; however, disliking the validity of one point, he rose up and shot me in the face. He later claimed that this was because he had randomly opened the I Ching at Shih Ho: Biting Through, adding that this demonstrated that Daoist numerology is bad for one's health. Wiping the tissue-ruptured paste of my brain from the coffee-shop sofa and picking up most of the fragments of skull for later sale to souveneir-hunters, I continued the discussion (which was of a superior intellectual calibre, I must add) and then went home. I suppose that next Game I will have to actually make an effort...
Helo peopals! Im whitehat hax0r now workeing for teh US govarment. Teh first mision tehy gaev me was too execuet Vlad Vais wich I did with to bulets in teh chest.
Having placed several land mines outside my door, I hear one go off. Another innocent has been killed!
Target #3: Cupcake
A brief visit to Games & Puzzles to gape in awe at the BFRBG 9000, then off to Pembroke to deliver Great Justice. The incompetent's room easily found, knocking produced a startled looking person who took three bullets: one from Borge's trusty sawnoff six-shooter, two from myself (one of which from my own revolver, another from Powell's kindly lent overpowered handgun of painful death). Said door-opener quickly ducked back inside mumbling about being shot in the arm, but considering that *I* was aiming for his arm, the chances of it being hit are remarkably slim. Nope, a hail of bullets is nowhere near that discriminate. Dead as doornails.
Of course we did visit some other targets that afternoon, such as the despicable Superlord (whose neighbour will probably require PTSD counselling), and the Mistress Of Evil... but they were out.
Still, two down... plenty left! Let no-one consider themselves below the law... you have no chance to survive make your time... For Great Justice.
Oh the joys of the Assassins Guild! An attempt has been made on my life. In fact, it was made yesterday…. I picked up my post last night and dumped it in my room before going out. Then today as I was going through it I thought “hmmmm…. Another brown envelope&lquot;. I’ve been getting a few of these lately and I always get suspicious, but until now they were all false alarms. However, like any good professional would, I donned my gloves and proceded to open it with great care. Twas a letter, the first paragraph pretending to be from a society, and the second informing me that I did not “fit into the grand scheme of thing very well&lquot; and had just been killed. Signed A.Sassin, how very original (not). Well, fitting or ill-fitting I’m afraid I still am in the grand scheme of things. More cunning will be needed to eliminate me! Also, note for future reference that no-one calls Trinity Hall, Trinity Hall College so the nicely printed-out official-looking stick-on label was to no effect.
An elite strike-force consisting of Potato, Pigeon and PC In The Dark went to call on Kirika this afternoon at about 16.15. After successfully infiltrating St. Catz, we located the target's staircase and made our way up, stealthily approaching his room. Potato quickly scouted the area and realised there was a bomb on Kirika's door - so we decided that a simple break-the-door-down-and-burst-in-and-shoot-everyone-in-sight-before-running-away attack was not in order, so we merely knocked. The light was on, but noone was home at the time as there was no answer.
We left, and then PC In The Dark left and so it was left to Pigeon and Potato to go to Trinity to find Jenna Spellane, but she was out.
I can indeed confirm that had they been keen and incompetent police, they would have tried pushing the door open, it was unlatched. The bomb would have gone off. They would have died unless they were standing more than 5m away.
Myself and some accomplices from Trinity Hall decided that the tragic death of the chief of police could not go unavenged, and so set out to eliminate the wanted criminal Kirika. After finding the subject's room (via the basement of St cats for some reason... there must be an easier route...) we proceeded to scout the area, we then proceeded to knock on the door, and unsurprisingly, got no response, so we went home. One of our parties did however notice that the door appeared to be bombed from the inside....
Upon my return home, I went to visit my friend and neighbour peter McIntyre only to find his tattered corpse sitting at his computer typing away. Most disturbing.
LeChoadk was an old man now, his days of plunder and naughtiness long past. As he painfully recalled the nude mutilation of his beloved Captain, Gaybrush Threepchoad, LeChoadk suddenly burst into song. The song was called, "When I needed a neighbour," and ran in the Common tongue.
Ho! I was cold, I was naked Were you there, were you there? I was cold, I was naked Were you nude?
He sang for many days, and many a prawne did nestle nearby to bear witness to the pirate's sinful howls. At last, when his beard had wither'd away so that merely the husk remained, the grizzled warrior pulled down his silken pantaloons and charged into battle.
LeChoadk knew he was unstoppable, for he wielded the mighty Buttlass of Gayskull, which he had beplucked from the twitching cadaver of Threepchoad. The enhusked rogue held the sabre aloft and cried, "By the power of Prawnelehem!" but could not remember the rest. He also did not know where to do battle.
He looked under bramble, o'er road, twixt ri'er and dale and beyond his own choad. But all he found was a pair of discarded lozenges. Finally, he looked in the one place he had heretofore feared - his own Sole!
After many dreary days in the doldrums, the fearsome pirate caught a glimpse of diseased Pigeon through the stethoscope. He ordered Ship's Prawne to load the cannon and light the wick. It did as 'twas told, fearing its master's baffling cruelty. The elderly cannon erupted in a vast, bloated cloud of sin.
Its task completed, Ship's Prawne looked up at its master with pride, tears of joy welling in its useless orbs. But then an eye belonging to the pigeon landed with a savoury plop on Threepchoad's corpse, which LeChoadk had brought with him for safekeeping.
"Avast! 'Tis Captain Birdseye! Tuck in!" shrieked the excited pirate, cackling madly at his hilarious jest. His bum caught fire in the confusion.
Later, after imbibing fine wines and watching Robin Williams' epic comedy Jumanji on the drawing room poop deck, LeChoadk and Ship's Prawne put their hands together and sang hymn number 50, "When A Knight Won His Spurs." After the rousing carol was over, LeChoadk raised his beaker in a toast to his faithful slave.
"A har har har! Thanks, me old Prawne!" shouted LeChoadk. The prawne tried to run, but his mangled limbs merely crumpled under his weight. The Choadst Pirgayte snatched him up in a bap, and, shivering his timbers, gobbled the squealing Ship's Prawne long into the night.
Earlier this afternoon, having called on kirika as the Dancing Moose, i met The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk leaving my building. We talked briefly about a "food for thought" evening we'd tried to invite him to earlier this, week, then i turned to leave, he pulled a water pistol and shot me. I take it that he's wanted (since he said i wasn't his target after he had shot me). I would like to take this opertunity to congratulate him on a very competant bit of back-stabbing ("I don't think it's fair to get people in your own college: it's too easy"- The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk one week ago) and wish him every success in the future. If he has one...
He wasn't your target, so I make The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk (James Wright) wanted for homocide.
Chap 2. (5 and 30 parts Post Meridian, on the Day of Our Lord, Sat 2nd Feb 2002)
(2.1) The Archangel Michael saw Colin Magee was living a life of sin in a sink of not-killing anyone-for-a-week and depravity, and that he didn't lock his door after wasting his violent tendancies (playing rugby). (2.2) He saw it was time for tough love, and even tougher smiting. (2.2) "Lo, let there be an opening to the pit, the underworld where dwelleth the evil in a burning hell." and it was so. (2.3) But while lesser extensions of His will were digging the Hole, Colin Magee returned and was shot. (2.4) May God have mercy on his soul.
Archangel Michael
"For the wages of sin are death..." - Romans 6.23
Fie!
Indeed, I the jolly-green-giant (named Al) must yet await two more nights of
empty-belly until I at last dine upon that rarest of delicasies: Marwood Bramwell. Said my fair friend, Eeyore of the pooh-people, "But brother giant
Al, wherest go though but to consume brambles? And are not all bramble, and
thistle-natured foods my fare?" Thusly, he sought to persuade me from my
task, and indeed I nearly wavered, believing strongly in the
arduous-192-thistle-pricking mechanics of my morsel and his compadres, the
villainous "Hay and Muzzles Donkey shop gang".
Yet, setting my face toward the task, I arose out of slumber and made my way
to the lair of mine enemies at about the hour five-thirty; and a fair, and a
splendid, and a bread-box looking lair 'twas it. I waited some, and yet
waited more, and I being of slow metabolism and slow thought process seeming
slept, but No! I watched ever hawkful the entrance to that abode, awaiting
the emergence of Exquisite Corpse, and my try-to-eat-me meal, Marwood Bramwell.
Perhaps being aware of my schemes, and mayhap fearing my highly visible
girth, I witnessed only more morsels entering the shop, until 'twas verily
full to bursting with men, and yet bristling with weapons. Then, indeed the
words of wise Eeyore struck true in my memory, and in truth, I feared the
bristles and thistles of young Marwood Bramwell. Methink they spied me,
cowering as I was behind the Wolfson building, my Giantesque form rendering
me no favours. Alas! At this I faltered, after waiting more than one
accursed hour, I was foiled and my disguise given away. I stole off into the
night, as stealthily as a giant may, and yet wait my opportunity to have at
these mortals again.
This has been a really bad week for me getting killed, on Wedsnesday I attempted to blow up Miss Gnomial. At first all went well, I proceeded to Emma, sneaking past the attack Geese disguised as ducks to fool the innocent public and casually pondering up to the staircase of my target. On the Staricase I see a suspicious figure, instantly I recognise him from my advanced computer archives as my target and deliver a slender shot to the chest, blood spurts out from his mouth as he falls to the ground his final words are: "Damm you Edith, you've not won yet", he produces a small metalic device and with his dying quivers activates it. Suddenly it's Tuesday Morning again, I'm too tired to get up after my adrenalin filled past few minutes and I fall back to sleep and miss my first practical and my assassin who was late for lectures (Tee Hee).
Wednesday again, I find my advanced computer system has been sabotaged, but put the errors down to another JANET failure and proceed to my target's room unaware of his features, unfortunetally this version of him knows exactly what I look like due to me turning up the Funeral of Ed Clayton, he sets up an ambush and guns me down as I leave, he then reveals that he used a trick used by all professional assassins: time travel. I vow in my next life I will carry twelve of these beauties with me.
Thursday, Roleplaying night, I play a pyscotic maniac with a very large gun, his name is Bob, the gun needs no name, it is simply "Bob's Gun" and it hums quitely. I feel like being slightly sensible and abandon the gun to make a Jeep lighter, there will be more guns when we get to our destination, I decide to disable the gun and roll a D20 to do so, it comes out 20, I whip out a small metalic device but decide not to use it as that would be cheating, after all what's the worst that could happen?
2 Dead Team mates and a 1 km wide crater later and Bob is dead, I spend the rest of the session wishing I had used the time travel device but decide not to because. Friday, Mario is obviously a corrupt scheming bastard, I hand the Cheif of Police a bullet with his name just to let her know who's side I'm on. Later I e-mail both officers to ask about incompetant bashing tomorrow. Later still I tell Jonathen Hogg that it's not worth him going on a rampage tomorrow as incompetants will prove good sport anywho.
Saturday, I'm police now, this is confimed to me when I find my lecturer is giving out dohnuts and coffee in lectures to increase attendance. I like my lecturer. I am carrying a substancial quantity of time travel devices, after returning to my abode I scan the police channel only to find that the last, best hope for a none-corrupt guild has been blown away by my good and decent friend Hoggy, I swear revenge. Mario cannot be dealt with yet, he is inconsequencial, maybe if I provoked him into insulting me and then challenged him to a duel, yeah that might work, later though. First Hoggy.
I ring up Mario and tell him I'm interested in some SWAT action, he tells me to meet him in the Umpire's staircase, I decide not to send my will to the umpire telling him there's a chocolate orange reward for my killer, I hope he remembers from when I told him, that and the chocolate orange I left with him. I meet Mario, him and Clayton are there, they explain they've only hit on two so far but are planning a raid on John's, Mario tells me he "feels really bad" about letting Hoggy go this morning as he walked right out of the door and killed Jenny. I believe him. Clayton and I go to G&P with Clayton, Mario "has something to do" and will catch up with us.
We go to G&P, after some banter with the people there Clayton recieves a call, Mario wants to meet us back at the staircase. Fortunetally my Mobile telephone interception device picks up Mario plotting to kill me and ring him back on my own mobile, I hear nothing, threatening to kill anyone who follows me I walk out the front enterence umbrella in hand, Mario snipes at me in the street, the bullets bounce off my Kevlar Shield as I raise it just in time, I realise where he is and leap towards him, drawing my blade and stab him viciously, unfortunetally he has just enough life in him to activate his device.
Same as before only my intercept device was bust, again I put this down to a JANET fault and am gunned down by Mario and his Big-Ass rifle, my chest errupts, I can feel my life flood away, Barly in time I hit my time travel device and am pleasently suprised to be alive again and inside the shop, I know that Mario's device is now used and needs recharging again before it can be used, I also know that hes planning an attack but if I knife him again the time pixies will grow bored and will atomise me (Time travel 101: Don't piss off the time pixies), thinking quickly I leg it, Clayton follows me, I see him and gun him down in front of Sainsburys, feeling board as I am now thoughly wanted I gun down some innocents too. Clayton hits his time device while I am laughing hysterially and turning the high street out side Sydney into a killing field
I am back in G&P again, I know nothing of Mario's call, Clayton does
however and he we leave the shop, Clayton stand differently though, Mario's
first bullet misses or hits my backpack (Mario thinks it hit but no one saw
and I felt nothing so technically it doesn't count), someone shout "Run!" we
Run, past the innocents at Sainsbury's, past the Cars, past everything until
we get to Jesus Lane, I look behind, no one is following us, I turn,
"Everyone ok"
"Yeah, I didn't feel anything"
"Well then if you don't know you got hit you didn't that's the rules"
"Oh good"
Clayton whiped out a small deringer type, I know these are good because I
use small deringer types, no one can see them until it's too late, I didn't,
the bullet tore through my face, splattering my brains against the wall
"Bang, you're dead, Mario just made you corrupt for the bullet with his name
on it"
"F*ck Mario knew about that then."
You might also be interested in an ICQ conversation I had with Hoggy during the SWAT raid tonight, we ask that it be censored before release:
Hoggy: (6:42 PM) Target.
Hoggy: (6:42 PM) Any reason why the police SWAT squad hasn't come for me
yet?
Edith: (7:33 PM) You killed Jenny? (Mario "feels really bad about that" btw)
I suppose you told Mario about the bullet then.
Hoggy: (7:36 PM) no, you were seen!
Hoggy: (7:37 PM) they're outside my door!
Edith: (7:37 PM) Tell them I say "Hi"
Hoggy: (7:37 PM) they say they "took care" of you.
Edith: (7:38 PM) Mmmm Hmmmm, as such I can't tell you exactly how incredibly
well armed they are right now.
Hoggy: (7:38 PM) BFRBG, tank. I saw them arive.
Edith: (7:40 PM) I still think it was you who told them about the bullet, I
mean Jenny wouldn't because she's too nice to do that, Tom wouldn't because
he's the umpire, Clayton Claims not to and the others probably haven't had
the chance.
Edith: (7:41 PM) What's happening?
Hoggy: (7:41 PM) We're waiting for the umpire to email us back.
Edith: (7:41 PM) You dead?
Hoggy: (7:41 PM) not yet.
Hoggy: (7:41 PM) (Duel proposed)
Edith: (7:45 PM) Ahh.....
Tell them I think you're a fool for proposing so many duals but that it's what I had planned for taking out Mario.....
Dream Scene:
Mario turns up with rifle and Big Ass Pistols, I turn up with 6 shooter and
proceed to empty 5 chambers as "I only need the one bullet" Mario empties
several clips at me which I skillfull dodge using Matrix stylee moves and
then shoot from the hip taking the most corrupt police officer in the Guild
down.
I thought she died that morning...
Problems:
a) Mario's not that stupid
b) I can't do Matrix Stylee Moves
c) I'm dead, 3 times in 4 days has to be a record somehow.
Hoggy: (8:02 PM) 3 times?
How?
Hoggy: (8:02 PM) PS I'm dead, but my room looks like a war zone.
Edith: (8:03 PM) Boham, Bob, Clayton
I'm writing the report now.
I take it Mario agreed to the duel.
Hoggy: (8:16 PM) yep. he won. Of course the G&P staff
Edith: (8:17 PM) Come on, they did spend an hour loading the damm thing, you
expect them not to use it?
Hoggy: (8:18 PM) they fired a couple of shots, but then it left. A certain
member of the G&P staff however was planning on shooting me anyhow.
Edith: (8:19 PM) The one with the Guiness T-shirt?
Hoggy: (8:20 PM) the goth like one.
Edith: (8:20 PM) They both look Goth-like... although one was wearing a
frilly thing in his shirt....
Hoggy: (8:20 PM) frilly thing guy.
Edith: (8:21 PM) Why was he after you?
Hoggy: (8:21 PM) Just in case I killed Mario.
Edith: (8:23 PM) Shame.
Mind if I include this in my report? it might make reporting slightly more
fun...
Hoggy: (8:25 PM) How did you die !3! times?
Edith: (8:26 PM) With a great skill and cunning, if Tom publishes the report
I'm writing you might get to read about it.
How about I forward the entire ICQ session and Tom Publishes Extracts after
deciding what can and can't be told?
Hoggy: (8:27 PM) Doable. Make it explicit that WE would prefer if this
didn't come out, at least until afterwards.
Edith: (8:28 PM) I think you just have.
Hoggy: (8:28 PM) OK.
Edith: (8:28 PM) I also have some info to hide after getting killed
Hoggy: (8:29 PM) hmmm.......
Edith: (8:32 PM) 3 times (in case you're interested):
1. Shot in the back by Miss Gnomial
2. Nuked on Thursday
3. Killed for being corrupt tonight.
Hoggy: (8:32 PM) Nuked?
Edith: (8:32 PM) BOB HIS GUN SAY: BOOM!!!!!
Hoggy: (8:35 PM) Ah! I see.
According to Vitenka, it was actually a fusion cannon. (I think!)
Edith: (8:35 PM) It caused a crater 1 Km wide! that's what I call a nuke!
Hoggy: (8:41 PM) ;->
You're what I call crazed.
Well, I achieved my targets for this game, survive more than a week, nail
somebody out to kill me, kill a wanted criminal and go on a rampage!
Oh, and have duel with the CoP
Edith: (8:43 PM) Well at least you had your fun, I think I'll resort to
Running the Churchill Rag assassins this term (the guy who did it has left I
think). Maybe I can scare people with an RBG again....
Hoggy: (8:43 PM) Smiles.
Oh shit!
Just posted to the wrong bloody forum (Check comp-serv.annouce)
Hoggy: (8:52 PM) Well, I'm going down to the bar now.
PC Edith the Hut was not only corrupt to wanted criminal Kirika, but had also been conspiring to assassinate me (as demonstrated by a number of emails, and the bullet with my name on it - which is now in my possession). However, he was not aware that I knew this, so I planned to have him lead me to Hoggs: I told Edith to email Kirika telling her I was going to have a meeting in Games & Puzzles that evening and that she could assassinate me on my way out - and I'd set her up by arriving somewhat later and shoot her from behind. The idea was that knowing Edith's intentions, he'd most likely tell Kirika the whole thing and have her ambush me for real - and knowing this, I could have them *both* killed on the spot.
However, seeing as though communicating with Kirika would require much more time than we had that evening, I decided I'd get rid of Edith straight away and worry about Kirika later. I made a discreet phone call to CAttAC Cath Een, asking him to keep Edith occupied while I got in position. Once there, I called him again to tell him there had been a problem and I'd meet the team in the Umpire's kitchen as soon as possible. Soon after they left G&P, I shot Edith in the back from my hiding place. the three of them started running, alerted by the sound of the gunshot.
Perhaps it was the adrenalin, perhaps he was just lying, but when the CAttAC
asked everyone if they were OK as they reached a relatively safe spot, Edith
said "Yes... I'm... fine...". At which point Cath Een pulled out his
revolver and said "Well, General Powell just made you wanted for corruption
and conspiring to kill him"
"Oh f*ck, Mario knew about that then"
*BANG*
Damn. I'm dead. While peacefully going about my business, I encountered a number of shady, nefarious characters in John's. Hearing the cry 'Here's one!' ring through those hallowed cloisters, I flung caution to the winds and boldly ran away. However, realizing my pursuer was considerably faster than me, and was carrying a loaded weapon, I was forced to turn and shoot him. He responded gallantly, but Brownian motion contrived to knock all his bullets off target and I dispatched him with some panache, returning my gun to its concealed location. His support squad then arrived and enquired whether I was dead. Upon my answering in the negative (well, I was too tired to run away again), he promptly shot me. Which raises the interesting legal question of whether this man is now wanted, as he shot an unarmed (and so technically innocent) victim.
The one Zorn's Lemmon killed was in fact not a registered police member, but owing to some confusion probably believed he was. Having just killed him, you will have appeared to be a legal target.
Hey ho, hey ho, it's off to bash incmpetents we go", we sang lustily as off we went to, err bash incompetents. The first terget for such bashing, we decided, should be Ms. Fletcher of Johns. Our plan, cunning in its intricacies, was that we should go and bang on her door, wait until she came out and shoot her. Unfortunately, it appears she was out for the evening; nor, as was my personal wish, did the entire Johnian mafia scramble for an OK Coral-type rumble. Instead, all was quiet until my associate, Rob, who was walking behind me, yelled "There's one!" ina tone of great excitement, turned and ran after a mafia villain. Being what can only be described as a fat bastard, I turned and struggled gamely to follow. He was chasing a man (clearly armed), into a dark patch behind Cripps Court; when I caught up, he was lying dead on the ground, with the evil Johnian reholstering his weapon and bleeding from the shoulder. I show no mercy to the shelterers of incompetents, the shooters of policemen or short men with blond hair; I therefore shot him through the chest.
However, as has been pointed out to me - this was only possible through the actions of a non-player, no matter how confused everyone may have been.
As a result, Zorn's Lemmon is not, in fact, dead. If anyone can find ou who the non-player who caused the confusion actually is, and why he thought he was a police officer, I'd be grateful.
7.30
Two sets of opposing fortifications were constructed, one inside the room of
the wanted criminal, one outside, armed with the BFRBG9000.
7.45
Very trustingly, I decided to come out of my fortifications in order to
give Mario a duel. Amazingly I wasn't shot. Mario proceeded to handcuff and
texas ranger style march the wanted criminal down into St Catharine's Chapel
Court, keeping his rifle at the ready.
(Cue THE music....)
Here, among the alleyway helpfully construted by the builders, a duel was
held. The CAttAC presided. Back to Back, five steps turn, and shoot.
Bang!
Bang!
Chloe falls over. Mario remains standing.
"I accept the final guide!"
Fade to black.
I think we have to admit - this guy is good.
The murderer Kirika met the maker tonight, by my own hand. After a long siege, with support from the mercenary Light Support Team of Games & Puzzles, Kirika agreed to a duel. Before that, she invited us to enter the room and take an 'innocent' assassin (who was also in the room at the time) to safety, to 'minimise casualties'. Of course, we weren't fooled by this: the bomb-inside-your-own-door trick has been done to death, quite literally.
Anyhow, both Kirika and her friend eventually left the room with their hands up, and were searched. Kirika was clean; the other assassin was carrying a medium-sized semi-automatic pistol but was allowed to leave.
I handcuffed Kirika and marched her down to the courtyard at gunpoint. Once there, we decided on the specific mechanics of the duel: we would start back to back, carrying identical revolvers, walk five paces then shoot. Should she win, she would be redeemed. Should she lose, well, she'd simply die.
We chose to use my trusty pair of sawn-off six-shooters, and after checking that they were both fully loaded, I let Kirika pick one of the two - she picked my right-hand one, which was slightly annoying, but by no means serious. Under the careful armed supervision of the SWAT team, we started the duel...
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five!
I quickly spun on my heels and dodged sideways (needlessly, as it happened, since she hadn't quite turned around yet) and fired a round into Kirika's torso.
As she lay there bleeding, Exquisite Corpse -an upstanding citizen who was assisting the SWAT team in its crusade against crime, corruption and incompetence- pumped a magnum round into her head to end her suffering.
Thus was the murder of our esteemed Chief Avada avenged.
Mr Simon N Hyde was killed this evening following a tense standoff in which he was trapped in the of room the wanted and now dead kirika. The standoff was defused and a duel ensued but Dr jekyl insensed by the treatment of his patient went to collect his gun. He then made an insane attempt to take on the four other assassins single handed including the chief of police and the assistant chief sadly his gun jammed and an arm wound to the assistant chief was all he achieved before being gunned down. In retrospect Dr Jekyls ghost admits that it was a fairly sneaky low down attack however he wished CLAWS to go out in style, and the opourtunity to completely restructure the police force was too good to miss. Mr Hyde just gives a ghostly manic laugh...
The death of a mafia. So sad.
Right, the police went back on a number of SWAT raids tonight, in an attempt to eliminate dangerous incompetents. Firstly, we went to Johns. And the Cripps building. Having had some "fun" last time we were here, we utilised some light support weaponry. But the Johnian mafia must have seen our weaponry. Because they hid.
Except for one, that is, who boldly stepped out, and shot one of our agents (not sure of his name). And was promptly eliminated by Flash Cougar.
After this, we decided that a tactical withdrawal was in order, so we retreated to the relative safety of Trinity Hall. After making enquiries as to the whereabouts of A-Staircase, we proceeded to the area. A potential threat exited a door, saw us, and legged it up a different staircase. We again decided that a small change of plan was required, and hence we ended up in Catz.
And Jonathon Hogg's room. The friendly porters were happy to tell us where he lived, so we took up position outside. And knocked. We knew he was in there, because he was making noise. He even unlatched the door for us, and told us that we could open it any time we wanted. But we were not fooled by this kind of low down trick. Eventually, the target gave in, and offered a duel, which the CoP accepted. So we all trapsed back downstairs again, and a duel took place, which the CoP won. But then Hogg's friend appeared. We got talking, and he opened fire on us. He shot me in the arm, but fortunately one of our operatives, Exquisite Corpse, shot him back. Oh, and his RBG jammed, which helped.
So after that we went to Harvey Court, but no-one was about to let us in. And to Queens, where we found the corpse of Vlad Vais. And that was it for one night.
Ed Clayton
P.S. Myself, Mario, Dan Drodge, Flash Cougar and Exquisite Corpse were all in attendance for at least part of the evening, as was Marwood Bramwell.
Obviously all Caians are incompetent, but one Alex Wood especially so. In a daring raid Charon and I infiltrated the Caian fortress of Harvey Court. Some gullible inhabitant let us into the building, but to no avail, Wood's door was locked and he seemed to be asleep.
It should be noted that Clarity had in fact become competent again - but due to a software error, still appeared on the incompetence list.
You see, one of the good things about being a novice player (no puns intended…) is that “veterans&lquot; don’t know you’re playing… Now, let me tell you a story of terror and suspense, of plottings and killings… in short, of assassins:
Main character/victim: James (alas not Bond) Wright, aka The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk, compsci, rower and blonde. He’s played a few times.
Anyway, he whom In The Dark and I alerted of a person outside his room with sinister intentions last May Week (search for “dumpling people&lquot; in the May Week 2001 Assassins webpage), decided yesterday that life was too boring. So, he randomly killed Pigeon, making himself wanted in the process.
Now, apart from backstabbing, that was not clever, Pigeon belonging as do I to the Binford mafia, and James Wright not (and us all being in the same college).
But you see, resent runs deep through The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk. And revenge, is after all, only human. You see, we’ve got a bit of a history of getting James Wright killed. Last term, my now-dead-and-turned-cop boyfriend, In The Dark, lured James into opening the door, upon which In The Dark’s college son, Hamm, shot him.
James Wright were not happy. And Pigeon got James killed in a similar fashion.
Somewhat more foolishly, In The Dark and Pigeon had been ribbing James about this just before the current game started. So really, you can’t blame him for losing control. Quite a vendetta “a la Cambridge&lquot; innit?
However, to the point of this report. Having crouched next to our monitors yesterday in wait for James to be put upon the wanted list so we could legally kill him, we awoke this morn to behold the happy news: he was wanted.
Sorry about the delay there - nobody pointed out to me that it had been illegal, so I just porcessed it with the rest.
There is another twist to this story, for he lives upon the same corridor as I. So, ensued an hour of me popping out of my room whenever I heard someone in the corridor (only four rooms, so it’s well worth it).
Finally, after many false alarms, I nipped out with my trusty RBG, to behold him returning from a shopping excursion. However, his RBG was drawn. I shot, but alas, missed. He shot and missed also. We both retreated to cover and he shouted “you missed&lquot; whereupon I responded “shit, I know&lquot;. Ensued more shooting, also to no avail. And so, the beast returned to its lair unharmed, and I retreated to my room before going (well armed) to have a shower. No doubt he will have a somewhat more lurid version of the facts, involving, if history is anything to go by, boats and obscure language.
However, this is not by far the end of the story! Justice will be done, Mr James, and the dumpling people will get you!
I attempted to kill James Wright, and managed to get myself shot and blown up at the same time. (around 12:30)
I went to his room, and attempted to bluff my way in with some story about having some notes for him, this unsurprisingly failed, and I went to get a detonator with the intention of placing it under his door, so I Could be informed when he opened it (I live very very nearby).
Unfortunately he opened the door and shot several rounds, hitting my shoulder, which is probably fatal, and also setting of the detonator, which is was extremely close to. I returned fire with my RBG, but don't' think I hit him.... So he maybe dead from the explosion, but probably not, as it was not meant to be a bomb......
Mr. Wright should realize that even though he won this battle the war is not over.
Please note tht according to the rules, police may not make indirect attacks against wanted criminals (but they may do so against incompetents). As a result, the bomb could not have worked.
Anyway - a detonator on it's own only kills those who are touching it - nobody in this case.
Finally, The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk did indeed kill (and then survive), and quite legally, too. It seems Trinity Hall have some housecleaning to do.
Apparatus
---------
- Beaker
- Bunsen Burner
- Glass rod
- Buttlass
Method
------
- LeChoadk looked through the poophole. Squatting outside his cabin door
was an Orificer of Her Majesty's Gayvy. Summoning the powers of Gayskull,
the aged pirate burst outside. With a devastating downwards jab, LeChoadk
drove his buttlass through Neill Smith's skull. Red blood gushed fourth.
The greedy pirate filled his beaker with the crimson splendour and heated
it gently with a Bunsen Burner, all the while stirring with his glass rod.
He did this for many days.
Results
-------
- A mess was made
Conclusion
----------
- I don't know
13:45: some guy calling himself "Mike" buzzes my door with a story about a
"War Games society", which he doesn't seem to believe himself.
I tell him I'll be down in a minute and head down to take him on.
Checking the back of the house, I find that somebody has already let him
in and he is asking for me in the kitchen. I also find he has an
accomplice guarding the back of the house, so I head back out
onto the road and down towards college, the accomplice chasing me.
13:50: Having lost the accomplice, I lay waiting down the road for them.
14:00: They do not appear, so I head back to my house, which is all quiet.
As I understand, there was no accomplice - and it was all the same person.
qqzm was to lusery too get teh intracom two works, so I decaided to do soem reconesecense which maens too looks round in 1337 sp34k. Tehn qqzm sawed me and hpw big and strogn and smrt and fast Im and teh wuss runned of too hied in some buches.
Potato and the Blonde Inquisitor recently placed a *HUGE* bomb on James Wright's door - 5L, approximately 6.5m radius. The bomb had two detonators attached to the door and a further one hidden underneath. With luck, this will leave the evil traitor in lots of little bits. The Binford Mafia will be revenged the loss of two of its members. Oh yes, we will.
However, said victim then proceeded to spot us as we left his abode and he shot and killed the Blonde Inquisitor with a concealed water weapon. I took it upon myself to destory this threat and so chased him down several side streets waving my RBG but he evaded me and so I returned to college.
Michael "Potato" Cripps.
P.S. I assume a bomb of this blast radius will make me just a *bit* wanted?
I was curious about the bit, and asked for clarification:
And what do you mean by "there's hope"? I only placed a bomb of this size in the aim of becoming wanted.
Your wish...
Oh, and the bomb didn't kill him:
Returned to my room to find a rather large bomb placed against my door. The obvious detonators consisted of party poppers taped to my door. However, I had been reading with interest the bomb attacks made earlier in the game and knew that there would be detonators underneath the explosives. I looked and saw a cap underneath one of the bottles. To defuse the device I purchased a ball of twine from the Newsagents. I then tied one end around one of the bottles. Next, I proceeded around the corner to the end of the corridor and pulled the string. The bottle fell over setting off the bomb. I was well out of range and there were two walls betwixt myself and the ghastly contraption.
There is indeed, a great need for housecleaning in Trinity Hall.
To this end Potato turned up this afternoon, bearing with him his great expertise in bomb-making (oh, and also the materials for it…). He proceded to set up a quite large bomb outside James Wright’s door while I stood by to cover him in case The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk was in. So far so good. Having finished safely we ventured outside, and were just amicably chatting with the corpse of PC In The Dark, when said PC said “oh hello James&lquot;. At the same time I felt a rubber-band (sorry, bullet) wound me greatly in the arm!!! But lo, behold our stupidity, he who we wanted to bomb had shot me! But this in itself would have been ok, for I had yet 1 arm and a great thirst for vengeance left. But twas not to finish like this, no! thinking James Wright would have gone to his room I naively went off in the direction of my staircase, and as I was opening the door my unsuspecting ear was shot by James Wright with a water-pistol! So now I am dead, woe is me! However, with a little luck so is The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk, for Agent Icarus went off in hot pursuit, and the last I saw was James going round a corner with Agent Icarus on his tail. So I hope he is dead. And if not he is very wanted for shooting me twice when I was unarmed both times (well, not unarmed, but not wielding arms either).
The saga will continue….
Weeping tears of Madness, the Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk transformed into a Laundromat Pirate. Greedily, he raided the Inquisitor's Laundromat before slaughtering her with an piece O' eight.
Kindly LeChoadk had just nestled in the Port of Gaymbrige. He was squatting on a barrell, merrily playing Hornepipe when a soiled Rat-Boy scuttled out of a nearby crate of Cheese. Unnerved by Rat-Boy's unwholesome appearance, LeChoadk fled into the sewers. But Rat-Boys like sewers. 'Twas here that LeChoadk spent many days learning the Ancient Art of Ninjitsu from a kindly, but hideous, Rat named McSplinter. Then, after Rat-Boy had slipped on some Orificer's Mess, LeChoadk pounced into a local tavern - The Gaypole. Rat-Boy did not follow. He was too haughty to be let in.
The family and friends of the dead Chief Avada wish it to be known that vicious rumours in circulation about her death and the involvement of Chief Powell are false. Chief Powell was acting entirely honourably in letting Kirika leave in relative safety, and it was unfortunate (but possibly she should have had more sense) when he bumped into Avada, unaware of his wanted status, on the way out. It is certain that Chief Powell did not intend her death, and he deserves the support of any who might have supported her.
I arrived at Alex "The Killer Mind in a Gorgeous Body" Angel's room, tempted to plant a bomb but fearing that her roommate might open the door. No one answered when i knocked on the door, and i knocked again and waited for 5 minutes. Nothing. Oh well.
16:05: Entered John's via the Great Gate armed with a bunch of flyers.
16:10: Having located the target's staircase, I proceeded to her room.
16:11: Posted poisoned flyer under Evelyn Knight's door.
16:12: Left Johns via the back exit.
However, Penguin found it first...
I went to visit an acquaintance on the incompetence list, R. Fletcher, knowing I could persuade her to open the door for a chat. Unfortunately she was out, but I did find a rather crude poison attempt - a Robinson Films leaflet half under her door. I put gloves on and carefully opened it using the but of my gun. Inside, what appeared to be a brown-black powder and a signature - "A. Sassin". That really is feeble. Last time I checked Robinson didn't personally post leaflets under every door of every college. What an attempt. I decided to dispose of it carefully, ensuring no harm would come to any bedders or other innocent folk. Besides, I want an incompetence kill for myself. Enjoy lectures tomorrow Rose. I may be there. Or I may be outside. Or I may be in your kitchen. Or it might be a figment of your imagination that's stalking you...
Today at approximately 17.25 I made an attempt on the life of the incompetent Rosemary Fletcher. Fearlessly penetrating the inner sanctums of St John's College, allong except for my weaponry, I made my way to the target's room. I listened at the door, no sounds were heard. Then I very carefully tried the door handle, no luck. Finally, I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again, still no answer. I lloitered for a while, I got bored. I left. As I was leaving, I spotted a shady looking character in a black trench coat. A baby seal I wonder ? I quicken my pace, paranoia fully aroused. I almost draw on him, but manage not to. I leave John's almost at a run, and head off down several twisting side streets. When I fell sure that I have lost any pursuit, I head home.
We've got another another target for you, Mike.
Great, Big J, who is it?
It's a girl, M.; you'd best leave this to one of the saints. You know how
you angel's are - Gabe got Mum knocked up and we haven't heard the last of
it.
OK, ok, James can do it. He's on earth at the moment, and he's always
talking about that sword. Oh, and she goes to this latin dancing thing, and
he did that stuff in Spain.
JAMES!
M., what is it?
Dancing, women and violence, James.
The name's Bond. James Bond.
If you say so.
Here's the details. Go to it.
How did it go, James?
Well, M., we had a great time dancing, and...
Jenna Spellane! Is she dead?
Well, I'd danced with her last week, so I was able to talk my way into her
room. But I'd killed Colin yesterday, and he was friends with her, and
warned her I was an assassin. She was ready for me, and shot me.
She is thus rendered competent once more.
This evening, Potato (of the Binford Mafia) stepped out with Colonel Panic to significantly reduce the number of assassins in Cambridge. First stop was James Wright, who had evaded my clutches earlier in the day. I proceeded to contact poison his door.
Was sitting in my room when I heard scuffling outside. Peering through the peep hole all was dark. I stayed in my room for a while then went to investigate. The lights in the corridor had been turned off. I was just about to leave my room and lock the door when I saw that the handle was coated in a white, sticky substance. I removed it with special protective gloves before it could do me any harm.
Snapdragon's door was also contact-poisoned.
I have just narrowly escaped an attempt upon my life. Thank god that I only drank a couple of glasses of wine at formal hall tonight. Anyway, as I returned from aformentioned fomal hall, I espied a strange substance on my door-knob. Cunningly, I used a corner of my gown to twist the door very gently, until it could be forced open. I then made my way into my kitchen, and removed what appeared to be a fair amount of contact poison fron the door-knob. Firstly, I would like you to make the perpetrator of this evil crime wanted, and secondly, I want to know where they live, so I can go and find them, and teach them the meaning of the word fair play.
Sorry about the slight delay in making Michael Cripps wanted - I was enjoying Queens' Films' offering.
Afraid of a little rain? (slight understatement) Not us. Once again we armed ourselves and boldly braved the vicious forces of nature, our aim being to kill, kill, have some chips and possibly kill again. Twas not to be however. We approached Robinson but were deterred by the fact that he shared a room...(dammit)and he was, (unkindly and without thought for those who might want to kill him) out, which posed a slight problem. Not yet out done, we trudged wetly toward Adam's Rd but the sight of an intercom was not one to fill us with glee. Being thoroughly wet, cold, hungry (for we had not yet got our chippies) and generally disappointed by life's cruel laughter, we went home again. The consolations? Well we aint dead yet (how foolishly bravado) and of course we had our chippies. Ohhh chips, the answer to the inconsistencies and painful turns of life's wheel.
A special carrot for a special girl...
PS. I also tried to poison her earlier, but I ended up stabbing her before she picked up her mail.
Whatever works...
Finally, I went to Emmanuel College and failed again to find three inhabitants. However, Ed Clayton, the CAttAC was in, so I tried to talk peacefully to him and then I left.
At around 9.40, I heard a knock on the door. I enquired as to the identity of the knocker, but my music was playing rather loudly, and hence I couldn't hear. So I turned it down a bit. And asked again.
"Mike Cripps" came the reply. Aaah, I thought, an acquiantance of mine. But, being the suspicious, paranoid, CAttAC that I am, I kept the doorchain on whilst talking to him. He was asking me if I wanted to go incompetent bashing. Now, I'm all for bashing incompetents, but not on a Sunday night when I've got shedloads of work to do.
I advised him not to visit certain colleges, and asked if he had had any success against the wanted criminal in his college; he replied in the negative. So I thanked him for asking, and shut the door. During this conversation, I noted that there was someone to the left of my door, out of view, because:
a. He was dripping
b. He was talking (it was a he, cos that's what he sounded like).
I also noted that there was a third person loitering outside, although whether this was an associate of Mr. Cripps or not remains to be seen.
So then I ran to the window. I didn't see them leave immediately, so I was suspicious, but then I saw a friendly face. I advised this person to leave the area, in case something bad happened. After all, as a police officer, it is my duty to avoid bloodshed. Unfortunately, I found his dead body just 5 minutes ago.
And later:
I found some contact poison under my taps. I received an email tip-off from the CoP, and began to check the area with a thick jumper. Some kind of white powder was under the taps in my bathroom area. Certainly death of an innocent there, the bathroom has been used recently. I'm going to check the rest of the door handles in the area.
Then I went to Jesus College, where I contact poisoned the door of our CoP Mario, along with his fridge, and the light-switch in the main corridor.
Some unidentified guy knocked on my door about 40 minutes ago, and tried to convince me to set up a raid against John's. I refused to open and told him to go away, and to email me if he wanted to set up a meeting in a no-kill zone.
About 20 minutes later, I received a message from Chief Clayton saying Potato Cripps & Co. had turned up to kill him but that he'd also refused to open his door, and instead an innocent Emma player had been killed.
Soon after that, my neighbour knocked on my door to tell me he'd just been killed by contact poison on the fridge door. I then inspected the kitchen area and found additional poison on my doorknob.
Now I hear the Binford mafia is making an all-out assault on the Police Force. This calls for extreme measures. More updates soon.
However, then a dangerous Emmanuelite came running down the stairs and chased after me, so I shot him. After asking him his name (Tom Withnell) I fled once more into the rain and returned to college.
Many people will ask "What drove that apparently stable Potato completely mad?". The answer is that Potato is really an agent for the Cambridge Liberation Front - acting to prevent corruption across Cambridge. With Colonel Panic by my side, none shall stop me from paving the world with skulls. And then relaxing with a cup of tea. Hahahaha!
Next, I went to John's College, where I found that Hylas the Nymph Pimp, Taz & Rosemary Fletcher were not in. I next tried to find Omega to discuss some matters with him, but I failed to find him and left quickly as the rain was getting heavy.
I PC Edith the Hutt being of Insane Mind and Unfit Body do hereby declare my last will and Testement:
I have little belongings and I'm taking them all with me. However as I have an evil mind I wish to strike vengence from the grave upon the person who killed me. Thus I leave in the keeping of the Umpire a Reward to be handled in the following way:
1) If while a legal policeman I am killed the reward is to be placed as bounty on the life of the person who killed me. 2) If while a corrupt policeman / blatent criminal / incompetant I am killed the reward is to be held in keeping for 5 days or until the end of the game whichever is the shorter. If I have not been resurected by then then the reward shall go out as bounty on the life of the person who killed me. 3) Should my killer survive to win the game then the reward shall go to them because they deserve it.
The Umpire shall recieve occasional bribes to be the executor of my estate during the game and to make sure he doesn't eat the reward himself. The reward is origionally a Milk Chocolate Orange, however I reserve the right to increase it as I see fit (eg: if someone threatens me).
Edith the Hutt, 3rd Febuary 2002
Choose a time, any time, ok, how about meet at 6:15 for 6:30 strike, sounds good to me, ok, see you tomorrow.
[00:15] Sleep [06:12] Leave room [06:14] Arrive front court
I'm in the middle of front court, chatting to friend waiting for others to show. We are meeting to go and bomb the most wanted potato chip head himself. Guess who walks in through the plodge, almost as if he was waiting for us, the man himself.
He obviously had a similar idea to us, how funny.
Rather foolishly he makes a dash for the post-room/shop/payphone area, he is stuck. As the others arrive gradually, it turns into five against one. The porter is a little annoyed as to why there are five people looking like they are about to break into the college shop, but we explain and he goes away.
For a while there are random shots back and to from a large distance, nobody gets hit. After a few minutes of rearranging personnel and deciding what to do, one of the team gets a few good shots directly at him. Claiming he's not dead and returning to his position, someone else shoots him many times with an RBG, he must be dead by now, but just to make sure as he emerges further I shoot round corner with XP-240, stomach frag, then more personnel empty more RBGs and RPGs into him. We then collect ammo from floor and say goodbye quickly. We are prepared for other Binford types but none show unfortunately.
PS: He seems to have been busy in the post room. I appear to have a poisoned letter, I'll open it with a knife later. I would point out the fault in the name & address, but that would make it harder for me next time.
[6:50] Work
Later:
I've just opened my suspected-poisoned letter. It was signed from 'Alex Cairns', although probably not actually from him. It had a stupidly small amount of poison on the back of the letter, a really feeble attempt whoever did it. If I had opened it bare-handed I probably wouldn't have died. Anyway, pulling it apart with scissors, a knife and a pencil I quickly dropped it in the bin.
The criminal corpse reports:
The wanted criminal Potato has just been shot in Emmanuel College. My final stop of the morning proved to be my final stop. Having reached Emma safely and just entered front court, I suddenly noticed the lurking figure of the CAttAC, with Miss Gnomial and Daniel Kenyon-Jones (Does this man never die? I've killed him once already...)
Rather than turning tail and leaving (Sensible Option), I was seized by a madness and proceeded to the Mail Room, while keeping an eye on the skulking mafiosi police people.
Once in the mail room I delivered my final batch of poison letters and then thought "Oh BUGGER!". My attempts at leaving were rebuffed and eventually I was shot by a CPS in the room. Madness descended again and I went outside and said "I don't think that counts" - at which point I was hosed down again.
So Potato lies dead in Emma. At least I can go to lectures with Ed again safely!
Myself and four operatives agreed last night to meet at 6.15 in Emmanuel Front Court, with the intention of paying a visit to the wanted criminal Mike Cripps. Unbeknownst to us, however, he seemed to have the same idea, except that he was pighole-bombing or poisoned-lettering us.
I arrived at about 6.10, and was met by Miss Gnomial and Daniel Kenyon Jones shortly afterwards. As we greeted each other, I heard the door to the porters' lodge squeak open. I drew my weapon, and took up a defensive position. Nobody up at this time could be up to any good.
Sure enough, out of the lodge came Mike Cripps, followed by a very helpful porter, pointing him to the postroom. He took one look at us and drew a revolver. We took one look at him and stepped back, allowing him access to the postroom. Sure enough, he went into it. The porter, meanwhile, tutted at us and went back into his hideaway. I think he was scared.
So there we were, guns drawn, pointing at each other. We all knew that we each had about the same range. I called down backup, and it promptly arrived. The porter came back and asked us if we were doing a degree in "Toy Gun Shooting" or something, but he went away again. Perhaps he saw the size of our weapons.
I seized my chance, and backed off, beginning a flanking manoeuver. This brought me to within range of Mike, and behind cover. I stuck my own gun round the pillar I was behind, and took a shot at him. He saw me aim, however, and ducked just in time for my bullet to pass harmlessly, just inches from his body. I put my semi-automatic around the corner and fired again. This time the lighter projectiles, caught in the wind, blew to a halt easily before they could reach their mark.
This diversion, however, allowed Miss Gnomial to return fire. Alas, he missed as well, but Mike had expended valuable ammunition firing at us, and needed to regroup. Seizing his chance, Daniel Kenyon Jones charged up to the doorway and opened fire with his rubber band gun. I'm not sure if he hit or not, but this gave Miss Gnomial the chance to attack with a lightweight flamethrower. This easily hit the mark, and, as the soon-to-be-corpse struggled, burning, out of the postroom, Miss Gnomial fired off another short burst, ending Mike Cripps' life.
The corpse then spoke to us. He said that he hadn't laid the contact poison yesterday, and neither had his friends. That was irrelevant, however, because he put something in at least my pigeonhole, and probably in others. Well, I assume it was him.
The envelope I saw had some tape on the back, as well as a bit of cotton. Not many non-explosive or non-poisoned letters have cotton on the back of them. Being 6.30 in the morning, I had no intention of dealing with it right then, so I left it for later. Looked like it was well done though, might be interesting to see exactly what it does. Hmmm... Not right now though, for now is the time for sleep. Or possibly to catch up on some paperwork.
PC Vash the Stampede:
The SWAT team was slowly assembling in Emma for an early morning raid upon the room of a certain member of Trinity Hall. Unfourtunatley (for the person involved), said person arrived in Emma also.
When I arrived, we were told that "Cripps is in the mail room" Taking up a strategic position, I got my assault rifle ready for use, my pistol in the other hand. Somebody more familiar with the layout of the place, (and the criminal in question) then borrowed my mark 240-XP assault rifle and proceeded to terminate with extreme prejeduce the notorious wanted criminal "Potato Cripps", who having dodged many sniper rounds failed to dodge the spray of automatic rifle fire.
He then proceeded to do his second stupid act of the day, it still being not yet 6.30. (His first was "meeting" the SWAT squad.) He stood outside while I pointed the supersoaker at him and said "Is that a waterweapons zone?" He left the scene reasonably wet.
And finally Daniel Keyton Jones:
Reincarnation is a beautiful thing, or so i thought until i looked at the new me in the mirror at 6:10 in the morning. In a way very reminiscent of my first death i was up early in the morning, preparing for a little police visit to a Mr Cripps . Meeting the CAttAC and the rest of the team in front court at 6:15, we all dived for cover as Mr Cripps walked into front court holding large 2 guns. Only part of the team had assembled so we made the tactical decision to let Mr Cripps make his way to the Pigeonhole room, and wait for back up. Backup arrived and a standoff ensued. It was resolved when Cripps, distracted by taking potshots at the CAttAC, came out of the doorway into the court. Seeing this opportunity to make the street and front court a safer place , i charged at Cripps gun blazing. Hit by the volley and sensing that his time had come, he staggered backwards towards the pigeonhole room just as a fellow team member opened fire with some "light support" weaponry, rendering Mr Cripps very dead.
While checking my box this morning (about 6:30 am) I discovered a letter from "Oxbridge Recruiting" that mysteriously had no postmark. Being slightly suspicious I took all the necessary precautions when opening the rather nice looking envelope (having apparently no detonator I wore gloves, ect..). Inside was a lovely letter with the following text, my comments in brackets.
"Dear Sir (Oh joy, a form letter)
It is the aim of our company to increase the chances of the poor students of Oxford (never heard of it) of being employed with their inferior degrees (too many of's in this sentence, sounds funny). We have hence decided to increase their chances by reducing the competition from the eminently superior university of Cambridge. Hence (using hence twice seems like they are struggling to sound sophisticated, hence they probably are not) we have sent you this letter to achieve our aim, by eliminating you (well isn't that special). Thank you very much (no, thank you very much).
This letter is coated with a harmless powder (interesting, I don't see I white powder, none in the envelope, what a disappointment)... disclaimer..
With Kind Regards
Alex Cairns
Exquisite Corpse
Honourable member of the G&P Assassins Group"
My thoughts....
If you are going to try to kill me with a poison letter it helps if the letter has in fact been poisoned. Otherwise it somewhat defeats the point. For this attempt Mr. Cairns really deserves to be labelled a special type of incompetent {that has nothing to do with being a target for everyone). If he went to all that trouble, he should have tried a direct attack instead. Better luck next time as I am still alive and quite incompetent. Also, personalize the letters please, I dislike getting impersonal junk mailings in my box.
Yours,
Robert Ludlum
Firstly, my own feeble attempt, arriving at Snapdragon's door this morning I hoped to catch him on his way to nine o clock lectures. After 10 minutes of waiting I became rather self conscious, the lazy sod was clearly still in bed so I knocked twice but to no avail. On my way home I lay in wait for the equally lazy potato cripps, hoping that there may be some conscientious hard working assassins somewhere in our cherished institution. Again, no cigar. I feel a tantrum coming on, toys will be thrown.
Last night:
On the way, I stopped to look at BFRBG and also to leave some Contact Poison on the door of Games and Puzzles for tomorrow morning...
This morning:
the bastards. contact poison on the door handle- on the other hand we now know that it is someone who knows you have to pull the door while unlocking it. it was allso in a public place. thats about it. i wanted to attack bjeorn to "flight of the valkeries"!! not that me seen apocalypse no too much, all we need it a helecopter. must persuade the chief. byes :P
And from Marwood:
Arriving at Capitilist's Top Secret HQ, which is just round the corner from our very well know HQ, I was paying a taxi driver when I heard a monsterous scream. I turned to see Alashandra slumped in the alcove of the HQ, her left hand coated in a red poison of some kind. It was too late, Alashandra had gone to join the great Killer game in the sky.
So, it comes to this. They come to my place of work and in a cowardly act try to poison us all. In a public place, in a foolhardy act which could claim the life of an unsuspecting member of the Capitalists (no prise for guessing that I suspect I was the true target). When they go wanted for the public use of poisons I will be at the CoP's side to execute such a low down piece of vermin. I don't want revenge you understand, just acting as a good upstanding citizen.
Marwood the agreeved
A little late, he was dead by then. Later:
The corpse of Alashandra just opened a poisoned letter. Except that she already suspected it was a poisoned letter, as it had no franking, and she was already dead. When I retuerned from the bank it appeared that Exquisite Corpse had attempted to send a poisoned letter, except of course that he forgot to add the actual poison and he should know that we of the Capitalist Mafia are safe while in our HQ.
Marwood the strangly annoyed
The letter was, of course, from Potato Cripps, and I wouldn't bank on just opening your letters in a no-kill zone. You might find yourself dropping dead as soon as you leave (and become vulnerable once more).
Okay, there was no string on the back of the letter. It was 6.30 in the morning, I had had very little sleep. I successfully opened and checked the letter, which purported to be from a supervisor of mine. Well, a supervisor with whom I'll start supervisions sometime in the next few weeks.
Yet another poisoned letter this morning, yawn. Easily spottable, mainly because it appeared before the lazy porters deliver the post. I retired to my den to open said letter, with gloved hands. WHilst claiming to be from the games and puzzles mafia, I suspect this is the work of an evil wanted criminal.
Bored, I decided to find out what the incompetents were up to today. I found out that our polygon friend had a practical from 9-11. I went to find her photo, went to the lab to identify her, then went back and met her outside by the bikes. She got stabbed with my trusty 15 cm ruler, labelled knife of course.
Returning from cells at approximately 11.10am, I was overjoyed to see a letter in my pigeon-hole. Not having many friends, I was suspicious. The envelope was labelled 'Oxbridge Recruiting' and something smelt decidecly fishy (though in fairness, this could have been the near-by presence of 'Fluffy'. Like a midget at a urinal, I was going to have to stay on my toes. I opened the letter, borrowing Fluffy's surgical gloves carefully procured from some innocent biologist, and was horrified to realise that this had been an attempt on my life. The letter was apparently from 'Alex Cairns' - he should probably be made wanted... Sorry Alex, but I'm just not that stupid. (Actually, I am that stupid, but I got lucky.)
I got a poisoned letter this morning, purporting to be from a company
seeking to increase Oxford graduates' chancees of employment by eliminating
their Cambridge competition.
As was pointed out in the letter, Cambridge is an eminently superior
university, and hence its undergraduates are intelligent enough to open
their mail with gloves on.
Better luck next time.
The Fluffy Pufferfish
PS- It says it's from Alex Cairns, but I suspect otherwise...
Correctly.
I was still high from last night's Vurt when I checked my pigeonhole this morning. The world was slowing down to its usual rhythm when I found in my letterbox, a most excitable letter. It was dancing and leaping about, singing loudly that it was a poison letter. This letter was causing quite a commotion, so I tucked it away in my bag to try and calm it. Even there, I felt it's evil emmanations. Taking it to the relative quiet of the library, I put on my latex gloves, and carressed the envelope. It was truly a convincing letter on the outside, but all the more obvious as a result. Tearing it open, and carefully pulling out the folded A4 sheet I found no poison on it whatsoever. The letter instantly went limp, its colours fading to the usual white. The Vurt had finally subsided, but I looked on the bright side; I had more feathers for tonight.
On Friday I sent Vlad Vais a poison letter, the next day he became incompetent and then died to an unnamed assassin. Did I kill him? The note was definitely not in the pigeon-hole a few hours after I put it there.
He recieved it, but didn't die.
As I was returning from lectures this morning (well, actually just after 12), I decided to check my post. There was only one item today, A suspect looking letter claiming to be from Oxbridge Recruiting. As I am now in full paranoia mode all the time, I donned my gloves, and took this suspect letter back to my room. Carefully opening this over the sink did not lead to the cloud of white powder I was expecting, but this appears to be due to the fact the my incompetent would be assassin had neglected to include any. Ooops. Ahhh, well. The letter has supposedly been sent by Mr Alex Cairns, although I feel that this is somewhat unlikely, as it does not seem to be his style, and contains several small but significant mistakes. So, I challege my cowardly assassin to show his face so that I can explain to him how this game should be played.
Received in my pigeon hole today a letter from "Oxbridge Recruiting" which I took to the buttery to open, wearing gloves the entire time. I commented "This is either a genuine letter or a very good fake" (I was suspicious about the apparent lack of postmark). I started opening it with Gloves, but A Victim of Circumstances (another player) said "give it here" and grabbed it from me, opened it with bare hands and handed it back to me. The letter proposed to increase the recruitment of oxford students by killing off the competition, and was signed Alex Cairns, Exquisite Corpse, member of the Games and Puzzles Assassins group. This begs the question of whether A Victim of Circumstances is dead. He had no powder on his hands. On close inspection of the letter and envelope we are yet to find anything resembling poison. The letter will be forwarded to the umpire for his decision in the matter. I'd like to state that I asked him not to open the letter (I have witnesses to this) so I should not go wanted; as much as I'd like to see the SWAT team versus the BFRBG it seems unfair to make Alex wanted either, assuming I'm a valid target.
Don't believe everything you read. A Victim of Circumstances lives, Michael Cripps actually sent the letter, and why would you be wanted?
First of all, thank you for giving me the honor of saying a few words about Chief Avada today.
I am humbled and honored by this opportunity to express my feelings, the feelings and sentiments of her fellow officers, her friends, the feelings of law enforcement officers throughout this city, and the feelings of a grateful and sorrowful community.
Every day police officers in Cambridge respond to several calls. No matter the weather conditions, no matter their personal feelings, no matter how they feel... they answer the call.
It is what we refer to as the "call for service." For Chief Avada, a woman who stood up for others day in and day out, she has answered her final call. For in the real world, the plain truth is that justice, valor, service, and hope often involve peril and sacrifice... sometimes the ultimate one.
But to those who loved Chief Avada and knew her, to the community she served with honor, courage, pride, dedication, end commitment; her final call represents a new beginning for all of us. It is a beginning that was paid for with the precious blood of a woman whose actions stand for what is... um... good and decent, in a world where chaos and disorder seem to always grab the biggest headline.
Today, we come together to honour Chief Avada, to pay tribute to a woman who dedicated herself to excellence in everything she did. As a police officer, and as a friend, Chief Avada exemplified what was good about this department.
She was an honorable woman, not a perfect woman, yet a woman who wanted to make a difference in the lives of others. She was a woman who cared, a woman who endured, a woman who loved passionately those around him.
Life is like a journey. We travel through each day of life, hoping, planning, and looking forward to what lies ahead. We enjoy the present and remember good times of the past.
But no matter how carefully we plan, no matter what our hopes and dreams for the future might be, as we travel the road of life, we are going to be caught by surprise along the way. We find unexpected hardships, delays and problems.
One of those unexpected hardships is the death of a fellow police officer. No matter how much we prepare and think about the possibility of losing a comrade in the line of duty, when it comes we are never really ready. Without warning, the death of a fellow officer always catches us off guard and stops us in our tracks.
Because when it happens, we come face to face with our own mortality, with the fact it could happen to any of us. It times like these, we have to look into our faith and seek the deeper meaning of hope in our lives.
In the past week, we have lost four other officers in the line of duty. We have lost two more during that same time span in separate... er... off-duty incidents. Today, we have to pause for a moment and catch our breath because death has caught us by surprise again.
We wonder, when will it stop. A famous general once said "we are never quite prepared for so many to die. Oh, we do expect the occasional empty chair, a salute to fallen comrades. However, as we go on and the price gets even higher, we are prepared to lose some of us, but we are never prepared to lose all of us."
We pause for a moment in the journey of life to celebrate, remember, and mourn the loss of Chief Avada, who was to me, as well as everyone gathered here, a friend who always brought joy into our lives.
Whatever the nature of our relationship with Chief Avada, we pause today to give thanks to God for having been able to walk the road of life with her, for having the privilege of knowing her and sharing parts of our lives with her. Today, we come to share those memories and experiences.
We come to remember that each of those memories and experiences was a gift from God, given as a blessing as we have walked along our journey of life.
Yes, Chief Avada touched the lives of many people - pretty much everyone, I'd say. As we reflect on her life, we must remember how full and complete her life was and be comforted of all that she has accomplished. Her dedication led to her death; she gave us the ultimate gift as she sacrificed her life for the safety and well being of this community.
People who hold back, people who never give their all for a cause or a belief or in service to others, may attain many years... but they will never attain the fullness of those years.
Chief Avada left us before we were ready; yet, she will be remembered always for all that she did in the time she was with us.
I issue a challenge to every current officer and to every future officer. That challenge is to go into this community and do what Chief Avada did: to serve with honour, to remember our oath to make a difference, to serve.
She accepted that challenge early in her career and dedicated her life to it. She, like the others who have gone before her, served with honour, pride, and by being the very best.
They did it each and every day, at home and at work, especially while representing the Cambridge Police Department, to make us proud of them. They made a difference by filling their lives with love and service. They understood that our true wealth and greatness is the good we do for others.
Chief Avada and the others are not gone. They live within our hearts and minds through their spirits. We will always have our memories and our love for what they did... and for what they represented.
For Chief Avada, and for all the fallen whose glory is displayed to us all, we stand here today and say, "we shall not forget." For those that continue to serve and protect, I say we honour and encourage you.
Amen.
Rev. Colin Powell
Following a much more than satisfactory Lancashire Hot Pot for dinner, Wallace decided it was time to send a poisoned message to Fred. I did all the handling, and was able to get back before Wendolene had finished brewing a nice cup of tea.
Someones attempt on Fred's life today was spoiled by a flier for a certain college dramatic society. The said flier attatched itself to the highly adhesive poison, thus making the aforementioned toxic substance extremely obvious and easy to avoid.
This morning on my way to a lecture I picked up a letter from a recruiting company. I don't have time right now for a proper report of what it said, but it claimed to contain a powder of which there was no evidence. There was no powder in the letter or the envelope. I therefore conclude that the assassin was incompetant for forgetting to put powder in the envelope. I know this seems like I am just being a spoilsport, but I really haven't found any powder in there, so can I reasonably conclude that I am still alive enough to kill people? The name signed on the letter was Alex Cairns.
A common problem - I inspected one of the 'non-poisoned' letters very carefully, and found traces around the lower crease (white face-powder), but the rules are clear - you didn't notice it (and it took me three tries, even having guessed what was used) - so you live.
Today Phoenix and myself ventured to Trinity Hall. The aim being to kill the incompetent and the wanted person living on the main site. First we approached the room of the incompetent, but there were too many people around to launch an attack. Then we went to the room of Potato Cripps, he was not in. We left him a present, a 1 litre bomb with a party popper detonator. The aim however was not to kill him with the bomb. The detonator and bomb were partially covered with the magnificent contact poison that is Vaseline. We very much hope that he has tried to disarm pr bomb and that he is now dead.
He is, but...
Potato, returning from the funeral of Chief Avada, was surprised to see a bomb on his door. Being dead, but having a large audience, he proceeded to defuse the bomb and then safely explode the detonator - to much general rejoicing. Sadly, of course, the bomb was completely covered in Vaseline - but I don't think poison really works on dead people that well.
Phoenix:
We approached the incompetent one at Trinity Hall but decided the risks were too great since there appeared to be several shady characters loitering around, no doubt his evil henchmen. We then went to pay a visit on that already mentioned criminal mastermind...knocking at the door there was no sound from inside, unless we may include the barely discernable sound of evil plans brewing and the ghosts of the dead, screaming for revenge. We planted a lovely little gift for him, being slightly bomb shaped, we hoped this would raise alarm in his soul enough to get him to disarm it...then the contact poison would strike- oh yes, we are the devious ones. Our nerves began to tingle as a foot step sounded upon the stair, guns barely concealed in time, a person appeared but appeared to be a neighbour, unless that it is was the son of satan himself, being too cowardly to face us in an open battle. Well anyway, then we went home...not for chips but possibly for hot chocolate and marshmallows.
I found a letter in my pigeon hole this afternoon claiming to be from a recruitment company. Surely, I thought, they'd only be sending letters to finalists. I therefore opened the letter with great caution and even greater gloves and its sender's attempt to kill me failed.
On returning from lunch, i was acoosted by a spritly young lass, wanting to know where cripps was. Asking why, she said she needed to get some information off of 'Evelyn Knight' for her friend. Ms 'Evelyn Knight' is a good friend of mine, and as she was refered to by her pseudonym, I went "Hmm", took her to the appropriate room, went away, watched, waited for her to draw weapons then busted her from here to next game. The hapless lass was known as Tomata Hari. Next time, choose who you ask for directions more carefully, and oh, get the right name!
Sound advice...
Borge W Gush was straightening the affairs of the state when he were alerterised to somebodyone attacking his neighbour, The Ginger Witch, with a coshstick. Borge shottered the attacker with his pistol, at which point The Ginger Witch picked up a cosh, climbed on her broomstickything and flewerised at me. Defendering myIself, Borge pulled the triggeriser again and gunned the witch to deadness.
We'll have to double the budget numbers of defense for this state.
Hylas the Nymph Pimp, again of John's College, was delivered a note this morning which is sure to bump him off.
I received this suspicious letter today which had my name misspelled. I took great care in opening the letter, and laying it out on the table revealed that it was from another assassin. The sender claimed the letter to be poisoned but further examination shows that there were no such substances found. The letter was disposed of, but I am now aware of another assassin after me, since the sender, being another amateur Capitalist mafia member, not only forgot to lace the letter with poison but signed his real name (Alex Cairns) and pseudonym (Exquisite Corpse).
I got a call from my associate Roger Benson to tell me that his neighbour appeared to be having an animated conversation with someone who "was an assassin and had come to kill him". I hurried over and loitered in his staircase to ascertain that this person was actually here to kill him. After a few minutes discussion about the assassins guild I was satisfied, and Edward Knowles made the mistake of looking away breifly, so I drew my gun and shot him. Ah well - another less from Emma, the world will scarcely note the difference, and the Binford Mafia yet again increases its successes.
Another feeble attempt and I'm dead. Passing through Tit Hall today to see a friend I though I might as well kill someone, I mean lets be honest what's not the point? Anyway I wandered over to A staircase to try to kill someone nearly as incompetent as me. Having checked the wrong window from the court I assumed he wasn't in but went up anyway. I was pleasantly suprised to see that an incredibly good looking friend lives next door and, assuming my inteneded victuim was out started telling her why I was there. Meanwhile he phoned his mafia friends whi turned up and shot me.
I didn't actually get around to checking my mail until after lunch today, which was good, since I probably wouldn't have been as wary earlier in the morning..... Tere was a letter in there I didn't recognise, but it looked very official (from "oxbridge recruiting ltd.") I was about to open it, when I thought that they were unlikely to be writing to first years.......... I donned my patented "anti-poison" (100% guarenteed - money back if it fails. Refunds in person only) gloves, and carefully slit the envelope. As I suspected, a note, covered in contact poison, and signed by 'Exquisite Corpse' - I hope the police take note of this!
To the best of my knowledge, Potato Cripps was dead within two minutes of planting his last poisoned letter - there's efficiecy for you.
According to Potato:
Also, Roger Benson poisoned a note and passed it out from under his door earlier in the day - unfortunately though, a passing innocent picked up said note and died a rather painful death. I assume this makes him wanted?
Yes, it does rather...
Well, I was studying ancient manuscripts and meditating thereof and what have you (some say the only reason they are ancient is because I leave it all too long before collation). And I hear some guy (probably a silly muffit) talking to my neighbour:
'Is your neighbour in?'
'I don't know'
'I am being an Assassin'
'Oh, okay, are you going to kill him'
Anyway, it went on for a bit and I wondered why I was the 'incompetent' and not him. So I sent a secret message using the ancient arts of Semagatchi and Morsito to some other guy. He killed him for me. BUT, before he arrived I was struck by a cunning ploy (no, it didn't kill me, it didn't even hurt, it was a non-physical ploy). I wrote out a message saying 'GO AWAY' in big friendly letters and, silently, slid it under the door. Unfortunately my frined Jimmy Irvine was coming round to borrow some washing up ejecta and he picked it up... death from poison was instantaneous. Cna I be a REAL criminal now please??
Only seven heartbeats later (minute long heartbeats) a 'rag rep' came to sell me a 'Blind Date Form'. Ahha! I know our rag rep and you're not it! So, in a fit of unequalled cunning I cried up: 'Just a minute, I have to put my trousers on'. Once again I put into use my communication via mystic media training. Now she is dead too.
If you ask me it's turning into a bit of a preadator trap.
For the second time in 20mins I got a call from my associate Roger Benson to tell me that someone was here to kill him, this time posing as a RAG blind date rep. Same proceedure as before, sneak up the stairs (preceeded by a no-longer player). I hear gunfire before me and dive round the corner to see th assailant, gun in hand (and clutching aformentioned forms) and fire a quicck shot into her chest.
As it turns out this is one Hannah Burton of Trinity College - killed for a second time by the Binford Mafia.
No sooner had I left from killing Hannah Burton, when I espied the (very) wanted James Wright crossing the courtyard. I rushed around to cut off his escape, but alas, he spotted me. A brief exchange of fire ensued, but all shots went wide and he sprinted out through the porter's lodge.
The Binford Mafia would like to take to opportunity to declare a price on The Choadst Pirgayte LeChoadk's head, in the form of 200g of biscuits to whomever removes him
The Chameleon survived a poisoned letter, surviving due, once again, to gloves. However, it must be said that the envelope was very convincingly done.
I think I'm dead. Report follows. But the letter says it was coated in powder, and I can neither see nor smell anything, and it doesn not appear to have coated my fingers.
Am I dead or not?
Nope. Rules are clear on that.
We turned up, knocked on the door. No response. We left.
I received today a letter from Alex Cairns that said it was poisoned, but doesn't contain any poison. Snoopy
I dropped in on Robinson College on my way past, and tried the door of room C11 (as you do) with a gun in each hand. It didn't open, and when I knocked nobody answered, so I assumed the incompetent I was looking for was out. Someone who didn't at all look like the target Smiths's matriculation photo came up the stairs as I was leaving. He was startled by me (although at this point I had hidden the guns and was merely holding a badminton racket) and commented on it. Highly suspicious.
I smiled, paused, and watched as he unlocked room C11, at which point I shot him. Many times. With several different guns. Then I saw the name on the door above his mangled corpse: it wasn't Bradley. Ooooops, I did it again..... should have read my list somewhere in the light. And checked which room the incompetent lived in.
Having made that regrettable little error, I then proceeded up the stairs and made a commotion outside C18 until Richard Bradley came out. He didn't look like his matriculation photo either, which suggests that I didn't work out which one he was correctly. Oh, I'm good at this.
Anyway, I shot Smiths too, but with subdued enthusiasm and only one gun. Shame, because I suspect he deserved it more.
Since I'm probably wanted, I should point out that I hope I'm corrupt in this incarnation because otherwise the hail of bullets that hits me outside lectures tomorrow is going to be genuinely dangerous. And also that I'm guilty of wearing offensively girly clothes with the intention of looking innocent. I'm sure someone can think of additions to that list if they can be bothered.
Sorry - didn't get around to processing reports in time for that to be organised. Anyway, you are wanted - but given the 'honest mistake' nature of the homicide, and the generosity of the CoP, you may be redeemed, by killing three incompetents.
Richard Bradley was the first.
This evening, while industriously perusing the internet with my work lying ignored on my desk I foolishly answered the door. I was promptly shot by someone claiming to be a policewoman by the name of "avada". She also shot my (innocent) neighbor.
A letter from Oxbridge Recruiting? Well isn't that just peachy?
A note to my potential headhunter: it would probably help if you actually put some poison into your poisoned letters. Just take my word for it.
Robert Ludlum shoots incompetent Daniel Grundy in the back at point blank range with a RBG. A few minutes later he shoots the corpse again.
Robert Ludlum shoots PC Rowenio three times in the chest with a RBG. Ludlum also hits and kills an innocent bystander who warned the officer and the attempted to provide a human shield.
Robert Ludlum knifes 4 or 5 innocents who overhear a discussion about the killings between Ludlum and 3 corpses to preserve secrecy. As a result of this I request a change of my status from incompetent to wanted.
Granted.
I'd like to report a failed attempt to kill me using contact poison on the 4th. I returned to my room to find some kind of jam smeared on my door handle, which I managed to spot and wipe clean. I don't know who attempted to assassinate me, as there was no one else in the corridor at the time.
Tonight my esteemed colleague Phoenix and I decided to go out and kill. We arrived at Queens at sometime around 10pm. After asking the porter for the location of room BB7 we quickly made our way there.
We knocked on the door and then hid in some convenient toilets opposite.
He came out bearing an RBG. I opened fire, as did Phoenix.
I hit his gun arm - but he continued to fire
Phoenix hit his gun arm and he continued to fire.
How much does it take to stop this mad man.
He then returned to his room to reload - we also did this in the safety of the toilets.
I heard noises outside - he was out of his room, but using an innocent as a human shield so that phoenix could not get him.
We then decided to leave knowing that he was either now dead or wanted for endangering an innocent who did at the time object to being a human shield.
We returned home, after stealing some of his spent ammo for analysis - it had a good range for such a small gun.
After his gun arm was hit, no valid hits were scored. The innocent was endangered, rather than actually killed, and so he is not wanted for that. Ironically, you could have shot the innocent, and then shot him, quite legally. (Well, he would become wanted in the fraction of a second before he became a corpse, anyway.)
Tonight I felt the need to purge the world of folly. We did go to the place they call Queens for to rid the world of that most evil and satanic person: an incompetent. Upon reaching the threshold, we did spy the door of the said devil worshipper and did attempt to purge the evil, knocking of the times three on the castle door. A growling roar did emerge, one to chill the very heart and soul, but we were not afeared, for we did carry a dictionary and a quick reference did tell this demonic curse to be translatable as a whimpering "hellloo?" Swift as a panther in the night, we did creep into the chambers opposite and did await the foul creature's awakening. He came, the Beelzebub, or at least some minion or evil henchman, saliva dripping from his jaws. Like lightening we did bring forth Excalibur (aka an RBG) and wreaked havoc on his afeared bones. I shot his gun arm, amidst a barrage of shots, piercing the infidel, and an acrid stench filled the air. Thus he should have stopped firing. But no, being the demon of the wilderness, he did continue and I was forced to retreat into the chamber, as Kal did open fire upon the beast. Wounding an arm and possibly delivering a fatal wound. Then another blood curdling screech did fill the hallowed air and we did realise he was retreating to re-load his gun. We waited... the seconds ticking away and then another voice did break the silence: this time twas a maiden. She did knock upon the door, possibly sent as a sacrifice by a local village. He cowardly did ask "are there still people out there?" she did not at first spy us, but I was betrayed by the creaking of my chamber door and she told him of our presence, he did open fire, and the dastardly one did use the maiden as a shield for she did cry "oy! What do you think you are doing? Using me as a human shield?" When he shut the door (having stolen the maiden to the amusement of his fellow dwellers) we did leave the place of sin, since we did not wish to harm the maiden. As we did make our escape the evil one re-appeared in a somewhat supernatural way, shooting my companion Kal in the upper arm. We returned to our home, dressing his wounds and planning our next voyage into the unknown. Then we had pizza. And twas good.
This does, of course, make Elton the dancing crocodile technically competent (but still lazy) once more.
I should probably add something of my side of yesterdays events.
As I peacefully sat in my room, being lazy as ever, I heard a knock at the door. Knowing full well it was locked, I invited the knocker in! A brief check of the peep hole showed a lone gunman standing in clear view in my toilet. But wait, is that a gun sticking out from the shower? The second assassin had put a slight bit of effort into hiding, but to no avail! I opened the door slightly, and stuck my gun round the corner and began to spray the corridor with bullets. They returned fire, so I ducked back. Once again I popped out, and further sprayed my load on the corridor (ahem). Noticing I was out of bullets I retreated, and after a brief rummage around my desk, reloaded.
Then a friend randomly appeared, gaining what information from her as I could I cautiously opened the door, since what kind of host leaves a guest standing out in the cold with such vermin about. Obviously, the people intent on taking my life could not risk harming an innocent, but I could quite easily reach over her head and let of a few more bands.
After another brief exchange of fire, the cowardly assassins fled. So I fired wildly at their backs. Then I noticed that their feeble low velocity rounds had scraped my hand, so I was unable to take the easy kill their backs offered.
And they fled into the night...
A ballistic analysis showed them to be using very low velocity ammunition, i.e. really thin lightweight rubber bands. When this compares to the armour piercing (big thick heavy duty rubber bands) rounds I was using, it is no surprise I barely noticed my wound, and also explains my superior range!
Ah well, same time next week? ;)
I am please to report that I just survived a cunning attempt on my life. A certain Alex Cairns had sent a very well made poisoned letter. It nearly got me, but I was lucky enough to notice that the post code was wrong. It should have been CB2 1TP instead of CB2 1TB. Try harder next time.
]Produced at Sat Mar 16 22:59:37 2002