Red Cat reports:
It was a hot summer's day in my home of 'Farthing Wood' the drought has been getting steadily worse, and more recently all the animals homes have been destroyed by imcompetants and their machines. Something had to be done to fight back and regain our home, but what to do. After a meeting with Badger, it was decided to send the bravest and most cunning of all the animals to a place caled 'Cambridge', where it was rumored that it would be safe to live.
The Red Cat and Bald Rabbit voluteered for this dangerous task, and so they put aside their natural dislike and went hunting together. Upon arriving at 'Cambridge' it was found to be swarming with incompetants. Feeling that they had a great service to do, they hatched a plan to rid the world of as many as possible. . . .
Our first quarry was a bullfrog known as The Doctor, however, they did not appear to be in the swamp at the time. . . . . Not feeling too disheartened, (since there were many more places still to go) we left the swamp and made our way to where the squirrles nest.
However, again, the target was out of his treetop dray. And according to Yellow Tit was was out digging up nuts.
Next to the pidgeon cote (home of Saruman) but despite ringing all visible doorbells on the pigeons refused fly.
Feeling very disheartened now, and beliving all others to be vicious rumours the two animals carried on walking to see Death Count, however this unworthy prey we had to leave cowering in his burrow (and we know you were there - we saw your bedroom light go off!).
Onto the large badger sett where Hi Ho Silver was rumoured to be hiding out. A simple ploy by Red Cat was used to draw him out, and the Brave Bald Rabbit shot him with an RBG held between two paws at about 23:20. Unfortunately his body turned out to be decaying gradually. We were the was the fifth to kill him in two days.
Our spirits lightened with went off to the furtherest part of 'Cambridge' to do battle with a joint target. A mouse known as Greebo. Using all my feline charms i cunningly persuade a charming mouse to let me into the old breeze block full of mice. Once the helpful mouse was gone (i had considered pouncing on him, since my claws itched, but decided to concentrate on our real quarry) I let in my faithful companion, and we stalked through the amze of corridors. Upon arrival at Greebo's (deceased) door at rougly 00:50, the rabbit, bravely volunteered to use himself as bait and draw him out. Deciding that bre-faced-cheek was the best option, Rabbit knocked on the door and requested his help to unlock a neighbours door. When the door was answered Rabbit let rip with about 6 shots through the door. But all were unfortunately unsucessful, and the mouse drew his on weapon. Fearing for his life Rabbit jumped down the corridor, and thinking it would be an easy kill the mouse quckly followed weapon cocked and ready. All was not lost however, since I was crouched in the shadows, and as he came out of his room fired one clean shot straight through his side.
On the way back to Farthing Wood, we made a quick house call to a duck that is a target. However furball was out and it was unknown by the mongoose when they would be back. Better luck next time, but i will be calling back at that pond, despite the act that i hate water!!
We hope we have made 'Cambridge a safer place, and will be back again soon.
Long live the animals of Farthing Wood! Meow!!
Esmerelda and the bouncing baby reports:
Expecting someone taller, I miss my target leaving the lecture room, and witness her vanish across the road. Unelegantly I close the distance but she suspects! Her hand slips further into her pocket.. I walk past and try to look innocent. Nestling my blade against my forearm, I stare up at Kings like an awestruck tourist. Her footsteps become closer, as she comes level as I turn and stab her in the stomach. "Hannah?..." Success!!
Bald Rabbit reports:
The Bald Rabbit, very tired from the antics of the night before with Red Cat was bouncing slowly home to his burrow in the rain. Then he saw his good friend Doctor Jim walking back to college with an unknown female friend (possibly piglet, if you take the analogy into AA Milne, not that she looked like a pig or anything, if she's reading. Actually I thought you were quite good looking, not that I'm asking you out or anything, you weren't that stunning and Jim told me you were crap in bed, but I'm a rabbit and it was probably a lie anyway...what's that Pooh?...get on with the story...sorry ).
So Bald Rabbit pulled out his trusty knife and thrust it deep into the chest of Doctor Jim and left him dead on the pavement before retiring to his burrow for condensed milk and honey.
Long live the animals of 100 acre wood!
Doctor Jim reports:
One night in very early february, the doctor performed what should have been a minor procedure. The victim however escaped from the ward before "assisted suicide" could be administered. The Bald Rabbit escaped with his life, a mutilated face and a deep deep desire for revenge. He soon contacted the doctor, claiming a non-aggression pact. Here the doctor let his normally iron guard down. He accepted. Three weeks later, and one cycle-by stabbing later, and the rabit is gleefully gnawing on lettuce, as the doctor lies, stethoscope askew, glasses broken, in a pool of his thick, red blood on the steps of Fitzwilliam college.
There I am, happily (?!!) working away in my room *knock, knock*. A friendly housemate of mine leads a visitor (Alexander Wurtz) to my room. He looked a bit puzzled when we walked into my room and saw a gun pointing at his chest and looked even more worried when he ran out of answers. Should have shot straight away really... but leading an exciting life is always better.
He draws, I shoot, he shoots - simultaneously. Nearly saw my end coming, but... what's that? Light smoke rises from the barrel of my gun, but his remains cold. A surpsised look was on his face as he hit the floor. Checked his gun - a dud. How unlucky... Better check your ammo next time ;-)
Alexander Wurtz reports:
Deciding in my bloodlust that i needed to kill (either that or I had half an hour to make my Inco Deadline) I headed off into the mist towards Harvey Court where i attempted to gain entry but was foiled by the cunning locks on the doors.
My bloodlust wasnt sated (and i only had 5 mins left of competentcy) I attempted to find the house of aka. After much time searching the right uilding was located and entry gained by looking innocent (but as you will find, dear reader, not innocent enough).
Useing my inate charm i managed to get into the room of the target only to find a gun pointing at me. Someone had tipped him off! (maybe the guy who let me in and told him I was there) whilst mouthing platitudes I searched for an exit. Deciding that Valour is the greater part of Valour
I drew my weapon (well, he was going to go through my pockets! me thinks He suspected something..) and fired a shot at him. He fired as well and on examination only one pellet was seen on the floor. I checked my weapon only to find that all the chambers were full (****!) and was slumping to the ground.
Damn Suicide pacts, something always goes wrong..
Animal was sad to see that a certain member of the fuzz was STILL incompetent. Animal decides that he should go allllllllllllll the way to Girton to try and kill this policeman. Animal was attracted to the dinner hall as it was time for his tea. Animal was fortunate enough to find Niall stuffing his face with food. I felt a pang of guilt as Animal pulled out my gun, then Animal say that fuzz was eating duck! Animal fires the shot and eats Spooner-Harvey_s food. Mmmmm, delicious, Animal should go to Girton for food more often. Plus Animal is pleased to see that the women of the college are not too bad either. Mmmm, food, exercise and Woman! Woman! Woman! Woman! GRRRRRRRR GRRRRRRR!!!
The Bastard Officer From Hell reports:
One of my late night strolls conviniently brought me past trinity college, so i dropped by to see if the incompetent policeman MI$ER was around.. after i found his room, i knocked on his door, and rather quickly someone at the other end of the corridoor opened their door, had a look down the corridoor at me and went back into his room.
suspecting collaboration between the two aforementioned parties, and also that they may be part of a larger intellignce network, i retreated to a position where i could defend myself from all sides. i waited for a bit, but was disappointed as no such attack happened. so then i knocked a few more times on MI$ER's door , but got no reply, so i eventually left trinity and carried on.
Hanna Wallach reports:
So there I am, blissfully asleep in my bed listening to the dulcet tones of my alarm clock, when I hear a voice calling my name. Being an expert at holding conversations whilst asleep (a skill acquired as a teenager) I sleepily mumble "yes?" before realising "hold on! I'm not at home! that's not my mother's voice!". Suddenly it dawns on me: There is someone outside my window who wishes to assassinate me. I leap out of bed. I run to the other side of the room. Slowly I creep over to the window and cautiously lift the edge of the blind. An arm reaches in! I dive to the furthest corner of my room. A shot is fired! And misses me! I stand shaking in the corner. My assassin exclaims "Damn. I missed." I reach for my gun. I wait. I wait. I notice a shadow on my window sill and the blind s... l... o... w... l... y... creeping upwards. I do not panic, I merely aim the gun at the window and inform my assassin that I can see their shadow. My assassin and I engage in a pleasant exchange about the futility of this kill attempt. It is agreed that my assassin will return at a later date. We wish each other a good day, and I settle down to drink my morning coffee in peace.
Red Cat reports:
At 9:00 i arrived at my target's college, and located her room. Finding that her window was open, i peered in only to see my quarry still asleep in bed!! What to do?!? Shooting a sleeping target seemed dishonourable, so i waited. . . The alarm started to go off, but my target did not even stir!! Fearing she was going to be late, i took pity and called their name, on the third attempt, they woke up. I stood, waiting at the window for her to open her curtains, so i could greet her good morning, but alas, i was not vigilant enough, and the target went to the other side to the one i was watching, and saw me, They flew away from the window, and i discharged a hopful shot that was a warning to them. Alas it missed, and since i was late, i headed to lectures, vowing to return. . . .
The Umpires reports:
Kzzzapp! Pow! Wee!!!!!....
The umpires wish it to be known that due to being completely incompentent, and failing to do anything (including die) for two weeks, Pippa Margaret Seal has been thunderbolted.
Please tell me, what year is it? And who is Umpire? Rosemary Warner, oh thank you sir. I am all out of interesting targets, but Bruce is my assassin, he sent me a letter.
A memory? I don't remember remembering it before. HOW CAN I HAVE DIED? HOW CAN I BE REBORN? AM I SANE THE SAME? AM I DIFFERENT? NOTHING MAKES SENSE! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR TH... NOTHING MAKES SENSE! There's nothing to distract me anymore look at the walls count the squares WHAT AM I?
He called me a member of the Caius Mafia! OVERRIDE B-1!!
Our battle is not finished.
I've been watching that cafeteria EVERY NIGHT SINCE OCTOBER for him to come back to the scene of the crime. So who's worse off?
Ian Horne's address. Letters and numbers all shifted around like I was dyslexic, or dreaming. I... know many things, many facts, but everything from my last life is fuzzy around the edges.
I can't... can't take these head games any more! *sob* Someone, make the pain go away.
I've got to get out of here while I'm still in control of myself.
The Man with the Golden Gnu reports:
Officer: Michael "The man with the golden gnu" Dnes Target: Arish 'Mi$er' Bharucha Weapon: Gnu
A long time ago in an Africa far, far away. They wandered the savannah, their herd in tow, enjoying natureÂís bounty. It was not always like this however. At night, they would sit around the campfire, sit and tell one another of the myth. Sit and tell the myth of the gnu. The myth of the golden gnu. Sitting and telling it.
It referred to the dark times, before the tribe had found the bounteous lands they called home. Back in the bad old days they lived in a land where water turned to ice and wind into razors. The sun, when it showed itself, was watery and weak. There was no fodder for the animals, for although there was much grass, they were forbidden to graze or even picnic upon it. The playing of music was forbidden, and the use of flash photography restricted. Truly, the tribesmen recall it as a time of woe.
It was at such a time that MeiÂícau, a herdsman of the tribe, was tending his gnus. It was the birthing season, and the female gnus were heavy with their offspring. At such times it is only natural for nature to carry away some of the mothers, and this time was no exception. One female lay on her side, grunting her last. MeiÂícau looked tenderly at her, pity in his eyes. Then he slit open the womb, scooped out the innards, and stoked the fire. But then a miracle happened. Rather than following tribal custom by eating the miscarried foetus raw, so as to gain its courage, he stopped and stared. For there among the blood and gore, was a living gnu. A golden gnu.
MeiÂícau raised the gnu himself, in harmony with nature. He taught it to walk, to chew, and to do basic calculus. The gnu grew in size and years, its golden hide made all the brighter by the love it received. It returned the love given to it in the only ways it knew how- maths tuition and herding the others. Soon MeiÂícau could claim the largest and healthiest herd of gnu on the banks of the great Cam river.
But this brought jealousy. While some herders tried themselves to train gnu to look after their herd, others simply wanted to steal the gnu of MeiÂícau. Thus it came to pass that a jealous herdsman stole into the fields watched over by the golden gnu, intent on making off with the precious beasts. The wily beasts noticed, and lowed in alarm. But with their herder away at the campfire, eating a hearty feast of leeks and potatoes, there was no one to hear their cries. The wicked herdsman laughed, as he proceeded to mime to the terrified beasts what life under his tyrannical rule would be like.
The golden gnu would not hear of it though. Lowing to its fellow animals, calling on their loyalty to the great master, they began to lumber forwards. At first their foe did not notice their plan, continuing to act out scenes from the tanning industry, but with terror in his eyes he realised their plan. He turned to run, but it was too late. The stampede had begun, with hooves coming on in row after row. Coming straight for him was the golden gnu. He fell beneath them, and was trampled to death. He had fallen victim to the man with the golden gnu.
To cut a long story short, the gnu goes on to win the Nobel prize for economics, triumphs over mental illness, and leads the tribe and their gnus to the fresher pastures of Africa, where they lived happily and peacefully ever after, until tribal warfare resulted in their forced relocation to Leicester in the early 1970s.
Dreamer of Electric Sheep reports:
Today, about 9pm, I planted a bomb for an unsuspecting victim in Trinity. I knew for a fact that they would be at a society meeting, so took the opportunity to pop in and leave a little present. A large bomb, complete with trigger (suitably poisoned because I am a bastard) was left outside the victim's door (rather obviously but it's hard to hide something that big). I also took the chance to admire his neighbour's chocolate cake, and to help someone else get into another person's room (they didn't seem the criminal type but hmm...). my only fear is the tiny, remote, insubstantial but nevertheless plausible chance that someone steps sightly too firmly on the ground nearby, causing the bomb to topple and explode. If this occurs then, assuming that it hurts someone that it shouldn't, I feel a moral responsibility to do ANYTHING that will keep me no-criminal, including paying for appropriate medical (or medicinal) bills. If this is not possible (which it should be due to the accidental nature of such an occurence um... occuring) then oh dear, time to run away and hide.
Hubert Arctures of Trilonia Prime reports:
Most assassins are pretty good at telling left from right. For this reason, I specified when submitting my address to the umpires at the start of the game that my room is the one entered via the door on the right, after going through the door with my name above it, and that the one on the left is really that of my neighbour Corrina.
Cut to approximately 11:30pm on the night of Thursday 13 February. An assassin approaches my room. The door on the left (Corrina's room) is locked and Corrina is in my room (the one on the right). My assailant's best course of action would have been to enter my room via the door (which was open) and shoot me. Instead, for reasons unfathomable to me, s/he chose to leave a bomb on Corrina's door.
I presume this was some sort of clever reverse psychology or other devious trickery. Perhaps surprisingly, it did not have the desired effect of blowing me to smithereens. Instead, it was Corrina who activated the bomb at 11:40pm.
The bomb itself seems to have been well enough constructed. It was a 2 litre bottle of water with one of those little metal things you get in the Magic Joke Shop (the ones that snap shut and make a bang if you put a cap inside). The label said "FAKE BOMB", a brief explanation that it was harmless and also had the volume, blast radius (4.2m minus 1m for door), the assassins@cusu address and a note pointing out that the trigger was poisoned.
All very legal and correct as far as I can see, except for the small detail that it was attached to the wrong door; for this reason I recommend that the assailant be forthwith declared Wanted.
The Umpires reports:
Indeed, as Hubert Arctures of Trilonia Prime has pointed out, Dreamer of Electric Sheep is now wanted. Please be careful about this!!
Having been rudely awakened by Red Cat yesterday morning, I decided to pay her a visit at home. So at 10pm I cycled out to their college. I cunningly asked the porters for their room number and found their room. I knocked on the door. I waited. I tried the handle. Locked. I lurked in the kitchen for another 15 minutes, but they never reappeared.
Found my way into Emma. Left bomb The leper messiah on his door.
Hopefully he will die tommorrow.
Ph34r my 1337 b0mb1ng sk111z
The leper messiah reports:
23:55 (In our assasins penthouse apartment. There are smooth grooves playing on the stero, while our assassin sits back in his leather armchair, sipping his dry martini and continuing to service his .33 detective special.)
<RING RING... RING RING...>
[SPEAKER]: Hi [Assasin's real name. Know only to a select few], [A friend of yours] saw something interesting in your pigeon hole and when she moved it, it exploded.
conversation ensures.... after which our hero hangs up.
23:58 Voiceover: Hmmm.... an atempt on my life. About time. What sort of heartless killer would put an explosive package in my pigion hole? I suppose I should go down and help clean up the body parts, attend to the wounded etc...
<Sounds not unlike sellotape being manipulated.>
Wait a minuite! (Listens intently) What are those suspisious sounds outside my door? (What sounds like sellotape stops. Foot steps are heard as someone leaves the hallway right opposite the door.)
I had better open my door from a safe distance.....
(Retreating behind his armour plated, re-enforced wardrobe, our assasin opens the door with a piece of high tensile, bomb proof string.)
(Our assasin chokes back the noxious fumes and attempts to give chase after his assailent, stumbling down the stairs, gun at the ready, checking each floor. Unfortunatly, due to a total lack of hearing and mild concussion, he is unable to find his attacker. But at least he lives to kill another day.)
Saint Valentine reports:
Happy Valentine's Day! You'll be in heaven when you open this... quite literally!
A man called Martin reports:
To self: "Running late to assassins' dinner! Dammit where do I park my bike? Here will do. Hullo who's that? OH F#?K!!! *Pop* RUN YOU FOOL!!"
Caught like a rabbit in the headlights of a truck. Doom approaching. But no ping off the chest like last time? Maybe she missed? Too dark to tell - it all happened so quickly. Fly! Fly! The enemy is upon us! I ran like a coward, directionless and panicked. Then the next 5 minutes were spent trying to find her again for an ambush. We see each other from a distance. A shoot-out is futile. A truce is proposed, and accepted. The attempt is debated, and no conclusion is reached. We part, and Chinese food is consumed in a shaken and bewildered manner.
Later, upon leaving that place of delightful culinary consumption, I ran again, in case of a return by minions. I ran from Castle Hill to Magdalene, then spotted someone running after me, who it turns out had been lurking the Chinese and had not expected me to leave by hurtling out the door at 1000mph. Keep going you idiot! Magdalene Bridge, Scudamore's, Jesus Green, and dive into a pub for sanctuary. I see him walk by, and past again. Phew!
Arrive at Castle Wolfsonstein. The Scotsman tells me a kill has been claimed - I put my version of events. Later, a return to the scene of the crime reveals conclusive proof. The bullet did not miss, as it lay in the shadows beside my bike and frozen lock. It is finished. Three weeks - two kills - one death.
This was my first and penultimate full game (May Week approacheth from afar) and I enjoyed it a lot. I value my openness (even if it tends to get me killed) and I have made many new friends through it. Honesty is a precious commodity these days, especially so in this context, and so I give up the ghost and watch benevolently from above. All things considered, I am happy with my efforts. At least we put Girton on the map, instead of having a pathetic little arrow on Huntingdon Road pointing towards the A14. I'll be back...
# We are Girton, we are Girton #
# No-one likes us - we don't care! #
# We are Girton, super Girton #
# No-one likes us - we don't care! #
Rosemary Warner reports:
I was lucky. Very, very lucky. I knew where he was going to be, and guessed where he would park his bike. And I was right. Some uncertainty followed the shot, but it was resolved, and he is dead. He seems to have explained it far more eloquently.
5 o'clock folly reports:
Still with no reinforcements our men went after a unit known to have carried out terrorist attacks. On reaching its location they found it to well guarded and were forced to fall back.
Enemy: Unknown but presumably high.Index | Wanted List | Incompetents | Police | Headlines | Updates
Produced at Sat Mar 8 16:07:35 2003