Michaelmas 2003 Game News - Week one

Monday, 20 October

[02:00am] We play the game again...

At 2.a.m more than 100 assassins are alive and free to kill at their leisure, good luck to you all!

[02:01am] J_J Wilks assassinated The Knowledge (Stuart Gooch)

J_J Wilks reports:

Manner of death: several body shots from RBG, upon opening the door in true lemming style with no protection and without checking first (though who could blame him given the number of times we pennied his wine and port in formal hall a few hours before on sunday night!)

It was disputed whether this happened before or after 2a.m. but I've allowed it to stand. Stuart can console himself with the treasured Lemming Award, however.

[06:30am] The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory made an attempt on Welshy

The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory reports:

(Shot of Oglethorpe and Emory in their spaceship. They are aliens, covered in spike-like appendages. Oglethorpe is orange, small and fat, whilst Emory is green, taller and thin. Emory is pressing seemingly random numbers into the Space Phone [a little robot with a number pad in the centre], which occasionally screams in mechanical agony. Eventually a call is made, and a balding eldery gentleman appears onscreen)
Oglethorpe: Hey neighbour, what is up? Ha ha!
Emory: H-hey. H-how's Earth going, and stuff?
Emperor Cambridge: Aliens! I can't believe it. Are you a peaceful race?
Oglethorpe: Vell hell yes. Ve are barbecuing, aren't ve not?
(Wider shot of Oglethorpe and Emory reveals a barbecue with two T-bone steaks, two doves and two watermelons. One of the watermelons is on fire) Emory: How do you want your melon?
Oglethorpe: Emory, the melons are on fire!
Emory: Well of course they're on fire - they're not made to be cooked.
Oglethorpe: But enough fire, you prance around like you have laser-eyes.
Emperor Cambridge: So you don't have laser-eyes? Because it was my hypothesis,
Oglethorpe: Hey, hey, ve are barbecuing here. Why don't you come on up?
Emory: Yeah, and bring a cold six.
Emperor Cambridge: OK,
Emperor Cambridge: How do I do that? I mean, do you have some sort of particle transmitter, or,
Oglethorpe: Particle tran, vot do ve look like, a couple of nerds?
Emory: (whispering to Oglethorpe) There's totally a particle transmitter.
Oglethorpe: Oh, yes. One of zose. Ve have that.
(Emperor Cambridge is transported from Earth)
(Oglethorpe knocks over the barbecue. The fire has spread to one of the doves)
Oglethorpe: Get zese gross shanks of flesh out of my dominion!
Emory: Oh that is great. Why don't you burn the ship down while you're
Oglethorpe: Shut up.
Oglethorpe: I have an amazing plan to betray our new friend.
Emory: I thought the plan was, to, barbecue with him.
Oglethorpe: Plans are for fools.
Oglethorpe: When he gets here we melt him.
Oglethorpe: And laugh.
Oglethorpe: On into the night.
Oglethorpe: Ahohahahohahohoho.
Emory: Why don't we just, talk to him and stuff?
Oglethorpe: Why don't you just shut up and let me do vot I vant to do for a change?
Emory: What about this fire?
Oglethorpe: Put it out!
(Emperor Cambridge reappears in the space ship with a six-pack of beer)
Emperor Cambridge: Hey, guys! I'm here.
Oglethorpe: Who are you?
Emperor Cambridge: I'm Emperor Cambridge.
Emperor Cambridge: You know, we talked earlier.
Oglethorpe: No.
Emory: Welcome to sp- er, space.
Oglethorpe: Oh look, ze room vere ve melt people. You melt away, yah?
Emperor Cambridge: No, I'd rather not.
Emperor Cambridge: Say, say, what is this thing around your neck? Some sort of galactic space collar, or
Oglethorpe: Dis? Oh, dis is a sweatband.
Emory: Yeah it keeps the sweat out of our eyes.
Oglethorpe: That's what yours does? Mine doesn't vork then, it's broken.
Emory: Because yours is a drool band, man. I mean
Oglethorpe: (irritated) Oh thank you, very good Emory.
Oglethorpe: Oh look, vot's over there?
Oglethorpe: Oh, it's Melt Disney World!
Emperor Cambridge: (irate) Yeah, I've seen it, OK
. Emperor Cambridge: What are these spikes these spikes all over your body? I mean, surely they have a purpose.
Emory: What spikes?
Oglethorpe: Oh, zese? No no no, zese are not spikes, zey are pointy arms.
Emory: We squirt soap out of them, and that's how we keep the ship so clean. See?
(Emory demonstrates this)
Emperor Cambridge: That's soap? Really? Well it kind of smells like waste.
Emory: Well one man's waste is another man's soap. You know what I mean, guys?
Oglethorpe: Hey, hey, vot is all zis interrogation? Let's toss the Frisbee.
Oglethorpe: Over zere!
Oglethorpe: Vere ve vill melt you into fluid!
(Oglethorpe tosses the Frisbee to the ground and stomps on it repeatedly)
Emperor Cambridge: Is there maybe a higher brain-form that I could speak with?
Oglethorpe: Nein! Ve are on top-secret mission of world domination!
Emperor Cambridge: World domination? You guys couldn't take over a damn bowl of jelly.
Emory: Hey is that like an important place or something?
Oglethorpe: Vere is it?
Emperor Cambridge: OK OK look, which of these buttons beams me out of here?
(Emperor Cambridge starts pressing random buttons)
Oglethorpe: Zose buttons are red! You'll destroy us all!
(Balloons and confetti start falling from ceiling, accompanied by party music)
Emory: All right, party time!
Oglethorpe: Whose birthday is it? Someone gets a spanking.
(Emperor Cambridge presses some more buttons, and is finally beamed out)
Oglethorpe: Good going, Emory. Who are ve going to melt now?
Emory: Well, uh- we could always invite the guys on 'the list'.
Oglethorpe: Very well, release ze invitations.
(The shot now pans to a stack of objects. Some are leaking suspiciously radioactive fluids, some have flashing lights on, and some are shaking from side to side. They are all crudely painted with the message 'COME TO EMORY OGLETHORPE & EMORY'S MELTERIUM, YAH?')

Invitation One: Welshy

Oglethorpe: Ze first target lives in <college>; a strange vacuous place zat ve vere not accustomed to. A porter voz very suspicious of vhy two aliens of our stature vould lower themselves to enter such an abyss, but ve viped (melted) his mind and vere on our vay.

Emory: I was like dude, don't d- do that, but he didn't listen. It turned out that the archaic symbols were unintelligible, and it took nearly like, like twenty minutes to find the damn staircase. Oglethorpe: It voz quite a vay up, but ve finally found ze room. Emory put ze bag down and zen ze explosion happened.

Emory: Well, well I was just trying to help by pre-loading the detonators. It's not like we were touching them at the time or they were strapped to an explosive or anything. I was just trying to help, man.

Oglethorpe: Vell screwing everything up is a funny vay of helping.

Oglethorpe: Ve vaited, but it seemed zat no one had heard ze explosion (I vouldn't vant to have too many in the melterium at once, yah?), so ve tried to lay an invitation at ze door.

Emory: Th- there was some sort of, um, forcefield there, which prevented the invitation being placed. We kind of um- we kind of tried to invite our friend directly, but the forcefield was immovable.

Oglethorpe: Very good, Emory. Vhy don't you tell everyone about ze failings of our plans. (Oglethorpe throws the Space Phone at Emory, ending the communication)

[08:54am] J-J Wilks assassinated Jennifer Skene (Sinister)

J-J Wilks reports:

Thanks to very forward thinking by a newbie assassin, their door was left ajar.. Hence I was able to stroll into the room, draw my gun, take aim, and ask: "Are you Jenny?" Response: "Oh shit!" (followed by the release of 2 rubber bands) :P

Sinister reports:

'Twas a moment of insane forgetfulness of the importance of security (I left my door open). An assassin of deathly skill and uncanny accuracy with a rubber band gun (I think he said his name was XXXXX) exploited my moment of weakness and suddenly, cruelly, this assassin's life was extinguished.

Farewell, cruel world

[09:00am] Harmonious Jade made an attempt on de Selby

Harmonious Jade reports:

I placed a letter covered with poison dust in de Selby's p/hole at about 9am this morning, it is computer-typeset in a brown envelope with 'UMS' in the corner (although it didn't pass through the UMS at all), and signed A. S. Sassin. It had the rules-mandate clause saying that it was safe and part of the game.

de Selby reports:

An attempt was made upon my life by means of some vile ruddy coloured poison in an otherwise inoccuous looking envelope. Thankfully via prudent counter-measures I am still alive.

[09:50am] J_J Wilks made an attempt on JALH

J_J Wilks reports:

I made a failed assassination attempt upon JALH at 9.50am. I waited outside his room with an RBG and tried to shoot him when he came out, but he immediately retreated into his room.

[11:12am] Jon Jowett(The Mafia) double killed with Noah Rolff (red Sleeves)

The Mafia reports:

There are of course no mafia in Cambridge. Not any more, that is. We succumbed to the skills of Noah Rolff but managed to take him down with us. A disappointing and early end to our quest for dominance in this city.

red Sleeves reports:

The double fatality took place sometime around 11am on Thursday the 20th of October. red Sleeves had been silently squatting in a water heater in the basement of his quarry's residence, awaiting Jon Jowett's return. After what seemed like an eternity of counting heartbeats and exchanging pleasantries with a weary and bewildered cleaning woman, the waiting abruptly ended. Jon Jowett came swiftly down the stairs and rounded the corner, two pisols drawn in anticipation of such an ambush as Red Sleeves had laid. Both parties reacted quickly and in a mad moment fired, each shooting the other in the face. "That's a double kill if there ever was," gasped Jon Jowett, and the two fell simultaneously dead.

[11:20am] The Baroque Manpower Policies of Tsarist Russia assassinated Tom Woolford (Aristotle)

The Baroque Manpower Policies of Tsarist Russia reports:

As the burning light of a new day filtered through the window blinds, Roger stood over his victim with a smoking .45, surprised at the serenity that filled him after pumping six slugs into the bloodless tyrant that mocked him day after day, and then he shuffled out of the office with one last look back at the shattered computer terminal lying there like a silicon armadillo left to rot on the information superhighway.

[11:35am] The Baroque Manpower Policies of Tsarist Russia assassinated Ravi Lal-Sarin (Tender Chicken)

The Baroque Manpower Policies of Tsarist Russia reports:

Roger looked around, taking in the sights and sounds that rushed him from all directions. He hadn't felt this good for a long time, but then a sudden sense of alarm bells ringing just below the threshold of hearing snapped him back to alertness, for though the hardest part was complete, he wasn't safe yet. Reloading his .45 he pushed on, past the code-locked door he'd hacked minutes earlier, out to the world that awaited. Sensing movement he leaned forwards and fired once, point blank, into the head of the man coming up the stairs. His body made interesting clicking noises as it tumbled away, and Roger quickly moved on.

[12:45pm] Corkscrew assassinated Kyle Scott (The Man with No Name)

Corkscrew reports:

Corkscrew lurked in the depths of the city. Face expressionless, he unfolded and reread the name of his target - "The Man with No Name". The hunter had become the hunted...

"The Man with No Name", that famous assassin. Murderer, spy, even ninja if the rumours were to be believed, and his illustrious career would end today. Corkscrew had to believe that. To disbelieve would be to court disaster. His brother assassin would die.

Skulking through the darkness of The Man with No Name's dingy staircase, Corkscrew finally sighted the lair in the distance. Sneaking ever closer, he nerved himself, and then:

"Hi, is this Chris West's room?" quoth he

"No, I'm **** *****." Aha!!! The Man with No Name unmasked! "Damn, I was supposed to meet him before the afternoon lecture. Do you know where his room is? The mathmo?"

"No idea"

"Oh, well thanks anyway". Corkscrew turned away, his quick movements concealing the motion under his cloak. "Oh, by the way..."

Corkscrew turned and shot The Man with No Name full in the chest with his Beretta. Relishing the stunned look on the corpse's still form, he slunk away through the shadows and disappeared into the night...

Kill confirmed

The Man with No Name reports:

Just to confirm. I was killed by Corkscrew earlier today.

[13:36pm] Shalashaska assassinated Nick Price (Captain Sam Vimes)

Shalashaska reports:

The dark Shalashaska has drawn blood. Poor, unsuspecting rookie assassin, Nick Price of Downing College, fell victim to me today at 13:36. Walking down the dim-lit corridor to his room, he had no idea his last seconds of life were ticking away. He smiled his last smile as he politely introduced himself, noticing only a quick glint of my blade, before it was all over.


P.S. It was a clean job, with only a little blood spraying from the opened arteries. Bystanders were amused and remained alive

[14:22pm] Debonair Chap assassinated Bilen Ahmet (G.I.Bob)

Debonair Chap reports:

My first successful kill.

At 2:22 I knocked on the door of Bilen Ahmet. "It's -----, from, staircase T" I bellowed when asked.

He asked, "Who?" as he opened the door. I explained that staircase T was organising a party tomorrow night, and that he's welcome to join us. We carried on discussing the party for about a minute, and all throughout my gentle party patter, my hand descended into my coat pocket.

Out flew a cap gun, a shot went off about 50cm from his chest, and poor old G.I.Bob was dead.

A terrible pity- I got the impression that what wounded him the most was that there is no real party in staircase T after all.

I wonder if death is like that.

The Debonair Chap

[14:40pm] Corkscrew assassinated Timothy Jones (ilfigo)

Corkscrew reports:

.His nerve returning after the success of his last mission, Corkscrew returned to his lair. Sitting down with a cup of green tea and a copy of "guns and ammo", he suddenly jerked upright, spilling his drink as some sixth sense propelled him out of harm's way. He slid his gun out of its holster in a well-oiled motion

The stranger stepped out of the shadows, with both hands raised. "Hold your fire," he said. "I have a proposition for you."

Intrigued, Corkscrew lowered his weapon as the mysterious man passed him a dossier and a briefcase. Corkscrew eased the case open, careful to stand out of the way of any booby traps - assassins make enemies. He opened the lid without a hitch, saw what was inside...

"OK, you've convinced me," he snapped as he slammed the lid down. Opening the dossier, he froze upon reading the target's name. "ilfigo" - another assassin. And one of the darkest of the Brotherhood, at that. But the lure of the briefcase's wealth was too strong. "If I may ask, why do you want ilfigo dead so badly?" he asked the stranger. A strange expression flashed across the man's face as he turned away.


After the thrill of the first kill, this second hit was almost routine for Corkscrew:

"Hi, I'm supposed to meet Mark Arnold at room *, **** stair. Are you Mark Arnold?"

"No, this is room *, ******* stair."

"Oh, sorry. Erm, by the way..."

Like shooting fish in a barrel. With an Uzi...

Kill confirmed

ilfigo reports:

I regret to tell you that i'm dead. I obviously did not grant the game the respect it deserves. The 'Corkscrew' knocked on my door and while giving directions to an obviously lost looking chap he took my kind directions and threw them back in my face in the form of some suctionesque gunny thing. I now know that a strict form of intensive training is necessary in order to reach the high levels demanded by the guild for next time.

[16:20pm] T1000 assassinated Jo Richardson (Smu)

T1000 reports:

The terminator's first kill or a string of lucky coincidences?

Approaching the accomodation of my first target, nervous and unsure of myself, I slowly edged towards the glass door. On closer inspection, the door to the accomodation was locked by an electronic keycard system. I was non-plussed; how could I hope to bypass such a barrier?

By chance, I saw a friend through the door, someone I had met for a week in the summer and hadn't seen since. He caught my eye, looked away, and looking slightly puzzled returned my gaze until at last recognition dawned. He strode over to the locked door and opened it, smiling quizzically. "Hi T1000, what the hell are you doing here?". Sheepishly, I mumbled something about just looking round. He led me to his room and introduced me to his friend, Jo. Jo was my target.

Not wanting to kill an innocent civilian, I carried on in conversation with them both for 5 minutes until a lull was reached, and while sliding the elastic band off my wrist, casually asked "I have a friend in Gonville and Cauius who talks about someone called Jo - tell me are you Jo Richardson?"

"Yes?", she replied expectantly. "Good" I said, and shot her with the elastic band. I missed and hit her on the foot. from 2m.

She stared down at the band on the floor and after a pause said, "Oh right, does that mean I'm dead?". Not wanting to point out that she wasn't, I attempted to subtly retrieve the elastic band for another shot before she could run. "No, hang on" she said, "I though the game didn't start until tonight?". She carried on until I had retrieved the elastic band and made a second, this time successful attempt to execute her.

So, those coincidences in full: 1) a friend was conveniently almost WAITING to let me into the secure accomodation; 2) he then introduced me to my target, saving me all that fuss; 3) she thought the game did not start until tonight and so had let her guard down; 4) Although I missed at first, she gave me opportunity for a second shot.

Smu reports:

I have been killed. Total chance he managed to find me. It was T1000 from T1000's college who did it!

[16:45pm] compsci35 assassinated Torcuato Battaglia (hannibal)

hannibal reports:

snif... I have been murdered, it was compsci35... he went to a lecture about the history of maths and he stab me on the back when I left early...

compsci35 reports:

Torcuato Battaglia is dead.

After a failed attempt in the early hours of the morning to locate even his room, I was feeling glum. So I used the back up plan. i tracked him down to a history of mathematics lecture (are those mathmos mad? The lecturer certainly was.), at which I sat behind him, my fingers itching on the handle of my dagger. I saw him make to leave early, so I followed him with all possible speed. Having dispatched him efficiently (oh, the sight of that first blood, and the feel of a quality blade in my hand) I slid back into the lecture and sat through the rest of it. On later questioning, I revealed to the lecturer what i had done whilst briefly outside. he in turn revealed that he had been an assasin in his time. Take note: this means the game has been in cambridge for longer than it is given credit for on the website. You may wish to contact him about this, as he may put you in touch with some assasins from the old days and you could get a decent history going. Anyway, tommorow i will attempt to kill again.

[17:25pm] Guthrie stylishly dispatched Simon Sharp (Lord Percy)

Guthrie reports:

I sauntered casually down to Selwyn, tweed blazer over shoulder, and found the staircase in question. His room was empty; sadly he had just gone over to the kitchin to converse with some pals. Not wanting to interrupt their exchange, I lazily unpacked my pipe and tobacco, lit up and enjoyed that mellow groove of Bolivia's finest tobacco grain. You just can't beat it. I could have piped on for hours in that corridor, were it not for my target's kindness. On asking whether I was lost, I replied whimsically, "Aren't we all lost?" and took another toke. Bemoaning as I was the absence of my smoking jacket, the thought struck me that this was the very man I was looking for. "I say," I pondered lacadaisically, "you don't happen to be Simon Sharp, do you old bean?" "Why, the very same! And you are...?" "Alive, unlike you."

On this quip, I drew, squeezed the trigger, and he fell. It's always sad when the chase is over, since what is life without the chase?

Repacking my pipe, I ambled away, musing on the futility of life.

[18:00pm] FatController assassinated Marko Cosic (cupid stunt)

cupid stunt reports:

What definitely DID NOT ;) happen was that <name> (and FatController who was actually my assassin, can't remember name but know him anyway!) wandered in through an open door and efficiently dispatched me following a brief 'hi, I've got a question on... flick...' (18:00hrs) (response: oh yeah, assassins guild has started) then proceed to solve my dynamics examples paper question for me in exchange. (pseudonym appropriate?) I'm sure the door was closed; flicking open violenty after the handle was slowly and silently turned, resulting in a spectacular 2 vs 1 display of knifemanship that lasted at least 5 minutes. Choose whichever version or combination of events you prefer.

Next time I might shut my door or look up from my desk, LOL!

[18:00pm] Barnacle assassinated Alexandra Spencer-Jones (Fetale) for openly bearing weapons in college

Barnacle reports:

I knew that there were assassins other than me residing in my college. I decided that a preemptive strike was in order and began a tour of my housing block in order to find some prospective targets. The first candidate was spotted in the dim distance swaggering around with a large waterpistol. I began my approach but he soon disappeared into his room (I now know where he lives). I decided to move on.

Another floor, another prospective victim (although to be fair this was more of a target of opportunity as I primarily visited this floor to partake of some inane chatter). Upon entering the corridor, I was greeted by a trigger happy RBG wielding maniac (Alexandra Spencer-Jones). After a fair amount of time and some conversing between myself, the RBG wielding maniac and others, I explained to her the rules regarding openly bearing a weapon. Some time later she was still waving her Buccaneer around and had even fired off some shots. Shortly after that my knife was buried to the hilt in her chest (although I think it was the shock that killed her as opposed to the knife).

This is a legal kill, as the target was openly bearing weapons, but I would discourage players from encouraging other players to bear weapons just so they can get shot.

[18:00pm] Harmonious Jade made an attempt on Bryn Griffiths

Bryn Griffiths reports:

Hi, I'm reporting an incident: This morning I received a suspicious letter through the UMS. I opened it with due caution which was lucky as it contained enough paprika to kill ten men. Witnesses who saw me open it will confirm that I did not come into contact with any of the poison, and so i'm still alive. Bryn Griffiths

Harmonious Jade reports:

The College of Bryn Griffiths, on the other hand, was easyness itself - a dash past the gatekeepers and Harmonious Jade was in, ducking down the stairs to their mail room. Once again there was a brief panic as a resident popped in to check for messages, but they left without any suspicious movement, and then Jade faded into the darkness...

[21:00pm] Jonathan Hogg made an attempt on Someone randomly

Jonathan Hogg reports:

Having met my target Someone randomly, coming out of a certain unspecified soceity, I made a botch on the "Get gun out of pocket quickly" roll, resulting in it getting stuck, while my target noticed and proceeded to pull his own gun. After the exchange of several shots he hit my left arm, however we agreed it was a stand off and went our separate ways. Shame that really. Oh yes, game.

Someone randomly reports:

Someone randomly pulled a gun on someone else. A shootout ensued but neither party was badly injured. They got bored and stopped.

Professional Librarian reports:

At approximately 21:33, I was leaving a "library", where I had enjoyed such delights as "Salmon's Conical Sections". Two suspicious-looking fellows walked out calmly just in front of me, then swiftly drew guns from their coats and pointed them at each other.

"Bang!" "Bang!" "Out of range."

It was not clear who died, if anyone. Besides, the "library" was much more interesting and I had seen some spelling errors on some signs that I needed to correct.

Professional Librarian.

[23:00pm] JJ Wilks assassinated Hana Lester (Chris)

JJ Wilks reports:

Twas a dark and stormy night as the JJ team strolled coolly into the maze that is St Catz. Having eventually located the room next door to the target's by mistake, was about to leave before realising the mistake. While the room I had thought I was heading for was in fact locked, dark and daunting, the target's actual room had an open door with two girls happily chatting away inside. "Hi, I'm a JJ," I introduced myself. "I'm wandering around meeting people." "Oh hi, I'm XXXX," the first introduced herself. Not the target. I shook her hand, anticipation rising. I turned to the other. "I'm Hana Lester," she said. I shook her hand, then drew my gun, and the deed was done. "Oh.... does that mean I'm dead then?" "Um.. Yes," I replied uncomfortably. I'd never before conversed with anybody I'd just killed in cold blood. I could still feel her blood on my hands. Then came the chilling response: "Oh OK, have a lollipop. By the way, what's your number?"

Tuesday, 21 October

[00:25am] Adam Dewbery(J-J Wilks) double kills with Alex Frost (JoeyR)

J-J Wilks reports:

Upon walking down many a dark alley and trying to break down a few locked doors, I somehow found an underground passage to the target's impermeable courtyard. Amongst considering complaining to the county council for rooms on too high a floor, I eventually made it up the stairs and came to the "alcove of death". It consisted of a kitchen with many a sharp knife; and two rooms. Here I would like to put in a case for the 2nd lemming award: My target was in the kitchen: I confirmed he was my target, looked a fool, and for some moronic reason walked off without shooting the bugga (Erm..actually thats probably too bad for a lemming award!) Anyhow, this gave my target a chance to get back in his room, cunningly leaving his keys on the outside of the door. Amongst temptations of locking him in, or stealing his keys i just hid by the kitchen and waited. A very loud creaking noise made me suspicious not only of the insecure design to the building, but that my target was trying to recover his keys. Hence i moved: jumped out, and fired a band..it hit him on the nose at the same time as i heard an almightly "bang" - Bugger! - double kill..

Alas the Lemming award can only be won by the first to die, but the Darwin award for death by extreme stupidity is up for grabs...

JoeyR reports:

In a moment of foolishness I left my room unarmed to go the two metres to the nearest sink. Immediately upon my door closing behind me a dark stranger and his two companions entered a door to my left. I panicked thinking, 'I'm dead', but no, a bizarre conversation during which we both gave away far too much information and made it plainly obvious to each other who we were and what we wanted. The stranger and friends leave briefly and I can't believe my luck, I'm still alive. Fumbling with my key I dive into my room, grab my gun and, leaving the door unlocked so they can enter, hide and get ready to shoot if they come in. Time passes. I think to myself 'They can't possibly still be waiting outside' so, I tie some string around my door handle, retreat to a safe distance and crouch behind a chair. I pull on the string and the door creaks open. Nothing. No bomb, I had convinced myself there would be one. The fact that I was still alive suggested that there were no guns. So, I crept towards the door, keeping the string taut, there was still another door to which a bomb could be attached. This second door (to myleft) was ajar 'Uh oh' then suddenly from my right the stranger sidesteps. Simultaneous fire. His Browning Hi-Power rubber band gun hits me in the nose, my Smith & Wesson semi-automatic cap gun catching him twice in the chest. We both fall backwards and in our final moments I think, 'Why didn't I use my escape plan' and he thinks 'Why didn't I shoot him when he was unarmed in the kitchen'. His two accomplices sob over his lifeless body, no sympathy for me.

[12:15pm] Mirabellaninani assassinated John Mark Edmundson (Little Irish Lepechaun)

Mirabellaninani reports:

Today at 12.15pm Mirabellaninani placed a letter containing poison pink glitter in the pigeon hole of Little Irish Lepechaun of Gonville and Caius. The results of this are not yet known.

Little Irish Lepechaun reports:

John Mark Edmundson Killed by Mirabellaninani

Letter blattently poisoned, nice letters don't sag at the bottom or rattle when my pens slip and it falls on the floor. Safely put in bag, consider just disbanding it but then consider that it's from someone who knows me, can I identify them (probably also arrogance{*} and considering that it might be genuine{*}). 2 Hours later take it home and set up shop, with Sainsburies fruit bags (lost my gloves) and carefully open the letter onto a tin lid. Vast Mound of glitter safely in bin, tin washed, letter in A4 Plastic wallet. Gloves off and hands checked, phew no trace of purple glitter. Decide to take bag to neighbor to ask for selotape to seal it once and for all. Pick up bag, without thinking{*} 4 fingers inside wallet one outside, 5 pieces of poison stick to my fingertips. Please will there be lots of criminals...

* Yes-I am that stupid

[13:00pm] Diz made an attempt on John-Joseph Wilks

Diz reports:

at lunch time today, i posted John-Joseph Wilks a luscious-smelling but deadly poisoned poem through 1st class post Royal Mail. it remains to be seen whether he opens it or not when it arrives. complete with disclaimer et al.

John-Joseph Wilks reports:

I finally got around to checking my mail this evening, only to find a poisoned letter. It was a very nice one, with lovely type, nice poison and very unsuspiciously packaged, but unfortunately for the sender (who signed themselves only Diz), I routinely open all my mail with at least one layer between skin and paper. It really was a very nice letter, though, so feel free to keep sending them!

[13:15pm] Debonair Chap assassinated Conrad Williams (Zeussoid)

Debonair Chap reports:

Jauntily ambling past the room of of my prospective victim, Conrad Williams, I couldn't help but notice the door conspicuously in the "Fully wide open" position. A quick hop forwards and a prod of the inner door later, and I was in my victim's quarters. I pulled out my cap gun.

It was then that I found myself in Wonderland, with myself cast as Alice. There was my target, side by side with his room-mate, both in identical chairs, holding identical folders.

"Zeussoid?" I asked.

Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee swapped looks for a moment. I could see this might not be so easy. I was already thinking of those old "One person is lying all the time, and one person is lying half the time" riddles.

Then Tweedle-Dum spoke up, "I'm Conrad Williams" I shot Tweedle-Dee.

During a pleasant chat afterwards, Tweedle-Dee's zombie corpse owned up to being Zeussoid. I suppose there's something quite profound about seeking philosophical truth from a corpse.

Debonair Chap

Zeussoid reports:

Mmm, I was shot by a man in a suspicious raincoat, having left my door open. Being one of the world's laziest assassins, I'd left my gun next door and was quietly reading Megarry and Wade on the Law of Property. This is Zeussoid the inept, signing off.

[13:15pm] compsci35 assassinated Zoeb Jiwaji (The Feathered Friend)

compsci35 reports:

I am now starting to get the first pangs of guilt which must trouble any ruthless killer. After all, my first victim has now been killed in the first day for two consecutive terms. Poor him.

And picture the scene: A bustling street full of students, happily conversing on the way out of a lecture. The occasional cynical comment drifts down the breeze. Ignorance is bliss, and they were soon to be made much less blissful. One in particular, who ignorance about the local assasin density was pointedly corrected. None but the victim, assasin and Other One saw anything of the incident other than the sudden collapse of this student, a faint trickle of blood creeping into a dark pool. Evidently the knifework is more subtle this time. Those who turned fastest were just to late to see a shadow stop for a frozen moment, as if struck with a pang of sudden guilt.

But such things will pass. It is just a matter of focus.

[13:30pm] The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory made a more successful attempt on Michael Jenkins (Welshy)

The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory reports:

Oglethorpe: Haha! Ve have confirmed an invitation.

Emory: I don't know, man, it was kind of messy...

Oglethorpe: (irritated) Vell how else voz I supposed to make sure he'd know vere to go, scheißekopf.

Emory: He didn't seem that pl-, you know, pleased. Are you sure we should have etched it into his body with bullets?

Oglethorpe: Vell now he knows vere to go anytime he looks down.

Emory: You don't know how to spell though, dude. I think you totally invited him to 'Oogle thru pan' or something.

Oglethorpe: He vill come, damn it!

Welshy reports:

Have been shot point blank with rubber band gun about 13:30 21/10/03. Death came on swift wings....


[14:00pm] Corkscrew made an attempt on Fried Chicken

Corkscrew reports:

That was such a lame attempt I'm not even gonna glorify it with a story. Let's just say that before you pose as a messenger from someone's DoS, it's a good idea to find out the Director's name... "Some poor sod in the next building's gonna get a nasty shock when Fried Chicken tracks down that name I gave him... :)"

Fried Chicken reports:

At about 2, someone came knocking on my door to tell me about a meeting with my DoS in 10 min. I couldn't open the door as I'd just got out of the shower, so I said thanks, I'll be there.

I then went along to see my DoS, but he said he hadn't organised any meeting. Do you think it might have been an assassain?

[14:00pm] Augustus made a pre-attempt on Logout

Augustus reports:

I had sent this e-mail to Logout, one of my targets who is a free software fanatic, in the hope of murdering him:

Hi Logout,

I noticed in some mailing list that you had a Cambridge address. I'm a maths fresher in Jesus College and I do a lot of C/C++ programming on Linux and FreeBSD in my spare time. I had a look at your themes project for Gnome and I have some ideas. M$ Windows has a themes system using .theme files which have a simple format and doesn't rely specifically on Win32 API stuff, so it would be possible to have an import function in Themus which lets you use relevant information from a Windows theme file (e.g. desktop background, sounds, colour schemes) and translate it into a gnome config. I don't think it would take too much work and would be a useful feature for people migrating from Windoze to Linux who would like to transfer some of their user interface settings. We should meet up to discuss the matter. Are you a Compsci? What college are you in?

Regards, David M. O'Connor

After he died, Augustus received the following email from Logout:

Yeah, that sounds like a plan! I'm in (my college). Do you want to meet up tomorrow evening, or sometime later in the week, or whatever?

[14:50pm] compsci35 assassinated Richard Sidey (Skid)

compsci35 reports:

Richard Sidey is dead.

On arrival, I was surprised to find that he had left the door of his room open, and the sound of typing issued from within. So I entered, dagger drawn, and paced purposefully across the floor. My first thrust was just a little too late. he had snatched up a dagger from on the desk and efficiently parried it. he held off several more wild swipes with apparent ease, whilst putting the final touches to his essay with his free hand. Evidently this was a man who did not have to trust in such pathetic contrivances as doors. I stopped, out of breath. There was a pause of about one second. he pressed 'enter' and turned towards me. For the first time I saw his face. Then it was hidden by a whirlwind of steel as he launched his own attack. I had had time to cool down and was able to parry rationally. I held him off for a minute. then another. a third minute passed, but I knew I would have to yield sooner or later. he gained the advantage, and forced me back against his computer. All that was between our locked eyes was our blades. His was slowly forcing mine towards my face. I reached behind me, and began to type. I stopped, the blade centimetres from my eyes. I smiled, and he looked at the screen: 'Do you want to save the changes you made to Document 1?'. He gave a strangled cry and froze. From then it was easy. As an honour to the dead, I shall ensure the memory of the masterpiece that he wrote lives on. All I need is a windows compatible tombstone printer....

Skid reports:

Bored by the lack of attacks upon my person over the last 36 hours, I had decided to leave my door open so that an attacker might be drawn into my abode. Like a maggot on a fisherman's hook, I awaited as the piranha came, in the form of compsci35. Sadly, there was no fisherman to lift me from my peril: Instead, I was entwined in my essay on North American history. The squeak of his shoes on the luxurious Cripps floor alerted me to his presence, but as I picked up my knife he was upon me. A lengthy session of hand-to-hand combat ensued, before I froze at the prospect of losing my hours of hard work which were floating helpless on my computer screen. I died, but my essay lives on....

[16:02pm] The Yellow Dart assassinated Franklin Zhong Lei (Agent Shield)

The Yellow Dart reports:

At 1602 today, The Yellow Dart staggered into the castle of Franklin Zhong Lei. Our hero was thwarted by the 4th floor armoured moat of said knave, though happily Agent Shield had no comprehension of his imminent demise, and disabled his otherwise impenetrable defences. After nearly loosing his weapon to the depths of his armoured pantaloons, The Yellow Dart loosed two four-inch bolts into the chest of his unsuspecting victim, rendering him relatively less alive.

[16:14pm] Shot down in flames assassinated Emile Axalred (Johnny Maastricht)

[16:25pm] Mean Mr. Mustard assassinated Alan Cunningham (Dr. Yes)

Dr. Yes reports:

I was sitting in my lair planning double and triple-crossing schemes when I heard a knock at the door. I slowly open the door with the rockets armed and ready, but they are too slow in launching. A loud bang goes off and I fall to the floor, still clutching the white cat....

Mean Mr. Mustard reports:

Mean Mr Mustard and his sidekick, Big Jim, headed out from fortress Trinity Hall at approximately 3.13pm. The first stop was the weapons shop down the road, where the death-dealing duo purchased two quality handguns for the sum of £2.50.

After sneaking into St Johns' college and locating the correct room, the first target, Alan Cunningham, never stood a chance. Even a closed door couldn't stop Mustard and Jim blagging their way in by pretending to be the hastily made-up 'Chris Taylor'. Two shots at point-blank range finished the job with a minimum of fuss.

[17:20pm] M3g4-|>3tH-As5ASs1N-K1lLa left a bomb for A Long Grey Coat

M3g4-|>3tH-As5ASs1N-K1lLa reports:

12 40 2 63 9 15 61 0 1 44 48 32 42 29 45 25 27 13 52 16 31 42 15 47 60 18 5 37 50 39 26 58 27 56 53 5 16 32 27 17 11 47 23 9 44 42 3 10 24 15 57 15 11 21 0 22 54 0 19 8 0 44 29 34 37 51 49 1 12 4 35 57 8 18 20 46 9 38 30 36 16 31 21 49 61 63 6 55 60 28 31 43 9 49 24 16 4 53 34 38 52 32 11 10 33 5 33 0 27 17 51 26 32 62 45 44 0 26 32 7 25 34 51 1000

A Long Grey Coat reports:

It was definitely a bomb I concluded after much looking and thinking. It wasn't entirely a surprise after I had spotted an odd character entering my staircase while I was hurrying somewhere else. What did relieve me was the suspicious character's absence as I felt under armed if it had come down to a fire fight. Others may disagree but I feel that lacking light artillery is a serious handicap in a fight.

After contemplating the situation facing me for some time and concluding the conclusion mentioned above I prepared to remove the problem. Unable to see a detonator I cautiously approached the bomb and carefully, aware that contact poison is sometimes used to hinder such safe detonation, tied string round the top of the bomb. Descending the stairs to what I trusted was a safe distance I gave the string a pull. The bomb did have a detonator, and it wasn't much of a surprise I hadn't found it as it was against the door. It also worked but it appears that the distance was sufficient to save me.

[17:30pm] compsci35 killed Thomas Booth (The Duke) thus killing his third target of the afternoon

compsci35 reports:

Thomas Booth is dead.

This needs no embellishment (though I've told him he can embellish it if he likes). I shall simply recount our conversation. (this is not word for word but is the best I can reconstruct from memory).

C35: *Notices that T. has what is evidently the tip of an rbg poking out below the base of his coat. Stares at this very hard.*
T: Excuse me, what are you looking at?
C35: I was just wondering what that wooden thing hanging below your coat was.
T: *Tries to conceal rbg behind leg* What wooden thing?
C35: You have a wooden thing sticking out from your coat.
T: No I don't
C35: Well, I can see it.
*embarrased pause*
C35: Oh, are you an assassin?
T: *stays silent*
C35: Wow, an assassin. Are you?
T: That's none of your business.
C35: I'll take that as a yes.
C35: Is that an rbg?
T: *Nods*
C35: Can i see it?
T: No. *Begins to turn away from C35, revealing a second rbg in his coat pocket*
C35: Ohhh. *Seeing second rbg* My goodness, you are well armed. Are you going on a kill?
T: Yes
C35: Wow, can I come?
C35: So are you, like, a really experienced assassin or something?
T: No, not really.
C35: That's a pity. I was hoping I could meet an experienced assassin so I could learn how it should be done.
T: Sorry.
C35: Oh, well.
T: So are you an assassin then?
C35: Yes.
T: Ok.
C35: Well there wasn't much point in hiding it after I said I wanted to find out how it should be done.
T: True.
C35: I'm compsci35, by the way.
Thomas Booth.
C35: *drawing dagger* Well, I guess i should give you all the usual info. I'm from... *stabs T in back* You're dead,
Thomas Booth.
T: Bugger.

The Duke reports:

At 17.15 today I went for a stroll from my front door with the intention of finding and killing at least one of my targets, my trusty RBGs both loaded and concealed in jacket pockets. As I exited the house, I was approached by a young man I had not seen before. As he approached me, I could not see evidence of any weapons and relaxed my guard slightly, which soon proved to be a fatal mistake. He introduced himself as "compsci35" and politely enquired whether I resided in the domicile I had just vacated. When I replied in the affirmative, he stabbed me through the chest with the knife concealed in his right palm. I had no time to recover my own weapon and open fire, before my vision fogged and I collapsed to the ground.

A costly reminder never to judge a potential assassin by appearances.

[17:35pm] M3g4-|>3tH-As5ASs1N-K1lLa assassinated Luella Hitchcock(Hawkgirl)

M3g4-|>3tH-As5ASs1N-K1lLa reports:

12 42 3 42 15 15 43 56 54 63 35 39 61 9 47 25 28 1 36 48 32 23 1 19 15 2 4 23 52 43 28 12 15 40 47 13 34 4 54 21 1 53 7 55 20 63 10 42 16 3 12 36 32 44 1 6 54 61 17 24 32 63 22 19 34 40 16 15 12 16 34 0

Hawkgirl reports:

Assasination attempt on Luella Hitchcock... Status: confused. Reason: Bomb left outside room in the form of a full water bottle. No activation took place... not sure as to whether this renders me dead or not...?
Curiosity killed the cat... having detached the detonator from the bomb safely, the cat was then intrigued which was sadly her downfall. Detonation complete, assasination successful. The cat sadly licking her paws in shame for being stupid, hoping that she use her spare 8 lives, but knowing that it is not in the rules of the game.

Luella - dead and gone

On behalf of the guild, I wish to thank M3g4-|>3tH-As5ASs1N-K1lLa for their witty yet insightful reports.

[18:20pm] Diziet made an attempt on Mirabellaninani

Diziet reports:

Due to laziness and lergy I have been very lazy lately... however, today I hand delivered (so I didn't get any poor innocent postal workers or porters) some poisoned (flour) letters to the bellow...

> Name: Mirabellaninani

Mirabellaninani reports:

Last night at about 6.20pm I found a brown envelope in my pigeon-hole. It was marked with my initial and surname and was blatantly a trap, with no imagination used whatsoever. With careful use of scissors the contents was emptied into the bin - a deadly white powder and a boring note. A most unimaginative and unsuccessful attempt (no glitter whatsoever)

[19:00pm] The Gentleman Assassin made an attempt on Jenny Chase

The Gentleman Assassin reports:

Damn! The phone's ringing. How come every time you get into bed with a beautiful woman your boss calls?
Leaving the girl in bed I headed towards the office and picked up the Dossier on my desk. I flick through the pages, until my eyes fall on one photo. 'I know this face..' After a Bushmills it suddenly comes back to me. This is the face I saw in the helicopter as I kneeled by my dying wife. The face was pretty but now that I knew who it was memories came flooding back. It made no difference anyway, I'd killed pretty women before, just this time I would enjoy it. I went to the Lab downstairs to be outfitted. I looked at the clothes laid out with horror, then realised that they would be a necessary sacrifice. Approaching her hideout I decided to plant a small but powerful bomb. It would be unlikely to kill her, but I wanted her to know I was after her. I wanted her to know she was hunted, to suffer, as she'd made Tracy suffer those few years ago. I don't know if the bomb would work or not, but after leaving my Universal Export Card I felt that she would know enough about me.. Anyway, let her come after me. All I want is revenge.

Jenny Chase reports:

Some absolute bastard bombed me when I was dying to get in and have a cup of tea. Had to go and beg all my friends for tea, or failing that some string. They provided tea but no string, so the awfulness of the situation was alleviated but not cured.

I was just bursting into tears at the thought of not getting onto msn in time to talk to my fluffy boyfriend, when a box of tissues was kindly provided. Inspiration! I stood outside the blast radius and threw boxes of tissues at the bomb, with many observers insulting my aim. In the end it fell over and rolled rather disappointingly down the corridor, failing to go off. I haven't investigated whether the flyer is also poisoned, so I may yet die to this cunning attempt.

Found email from other player, saying one of my neighbours (haven't found out which one yet, but it has to be one of the ones I don't know very well) had poked about with it and it had failed to go off. Mmmm, these detonator things are clever!

I guess, since I have a keen assassin who can be bothered to come to the ends of the Earth, that I'd better get myself some weapons and start locking my door now.


Ooooh, he called me pretty!


Besides, it means he clearly wouldn't recognise me.

[19:15pm] Marmite assassinated David O'Doherty (Augustus)

Augustus reports:

As I stealthily exited my room, armed and cautiously surveying the area, a loud gunshot accompanied a sharp pain in my heart. I watched the blood oozing from my chest as I slowly lost consciousness but lived just long enough to say the wicked grin of my gun-toting assassin.

I came back as a ghost to tell you this story. I think my assassin was called Marmite.

[20:10pm] Bladud assassinated Stuart Gill (Harland Quinn)

Bladud reports:

It was a dark and stormy night, and fear stalked the streets of Cambridge. But I didn't care. I had a job to do, and a plan to do it with. Following my unerring instincts for direction, and not getting lost more than once, I tracked down my distant target with the aid of my accomplice, whose homely face belies a cunning brain.

My plan was a bold, cunning, and yet devilishly simple one. I intended to knock on his door, wait until he answered it, and then to kill him with my trusty knife. What could be more simple, or more effective? To put him off his guard, I had devised a secondary scheme; I would impersonate a Mormon missionary. This unbelievably subtle plan was my ally in my fight, as I strode boldly to my destination and his doom. Imagine my consternation, and the disarray to my plans when the door was opened by someone who I knew was not my target. I have a sixth sense in such matters. But great generals are known by their ability to think on the spot, and I swiftly improvised a NEW plan. It went as follows: Me: Is Harland Quinn in?
Innocent bystander (clearly suspicious, but still trusting, and may God preserve such innocents): Yes.
(Innocent bystander leads me to the victim)
Me: Ah-ha!
I draw my trusty knife from my sleeve and thrust deep it into his heart. He drops to the ground, dead.
Harland Quinn: O, I die!
Me: You are but the first.Mwahahahaha!!!
Bystanders cower in fear at my revealed evil, while outside lighting scorches the barren streets...

[21:30pm] JJ Wilks assassinated Matthew Carroll (Northern Scum)

Northern Scum reports:

I must report a most ungentlemanly death. As I was introduced to a "friend from school" by a friend from my college, I shook his hand and was stabbed in the side. Damn my friendly side. The thing is though, my 'friend' had just half an hour before proposed an alliance. Motherf........ Anyway, the moral of the story is trust noone, especially people newly introduced. Damn the man.

JJ Wilks reports:

Oh and a late report for the last one on Northern Scum: "Yeah, I killed him." Sorry it took so long for that!

[21:50pm] The Guru assassinated Alex Labram (Corkscrew)

The Guru reports:

Feeling the sharp bite of the wintry air after the warmth inside, The Guru makes his way down the steps on his way back home. Startled by a sudden sound he spins around, only to see Corkscrew drawing a large caliber pistol. Dropping suddenly, and drawing with a speed learned after years of training, The Guru drops the fell assassin before he can raise his weapon past waist height.

Silence descends after the violent crack of gunfire, and leaving the carrion where it lies The Guru swiftly turns on his heel and continues on his way.

Corkscrew reports:

Aaaaaaaah! And all because of a misunderstanding! As we left a society meeting in a friendly way, I realised that The Guru could easily be hunting me down so I eased my gun slightly out of its sheath. "Sorry about the gun, mate but I'm..." The Guru pulls out a gun and shoots me point blank range. My finger clenched on the trigger, and the return fire caught him in the arm, but no damage was done. "...a bit nervous at the moment." It turned out later that he thought, upon seeing my gun, that I was after *him*! Oh well, at least his first kill was with style. And it means I don't have to deal with that pesky veteran Fried Chicken any more.

[22:00pm] Peter Dunn made an attempt on Lady Penelope

Peter Dunn reports:

After drinking far too much Foster's and wine, Peter Dunn and a tracksuited minion known only as 'The Bride' went in search of our first kill- the assassin known only as 'Lady Penelope'. After doing some reconnasisance during the day we had discovered the room where our target was located, and we ventured there at around 8:15PM to do the dirty deed. While 'The Bride' kept watch, Peter Dunn set detonation charges all over the target's door, figuring that the more charges he set, the more actually might go off. The job done with nobody spotting us, we casually set off back home, pausing only to inquire after our victim in the college Bar and being told that nobody knew who he was. Although we were tempted to return to see if we were successful, we were both far too drunk and decided against it on the basis that collapsing against our target's door was not a good way to conduct an assassination. It remains to be seen whether we were successful or if we booby-trapped a Fellow's door by mistake (let's hope not, eh?).

Lady Penelope reports:

An attempt was made on my life at about 10pm:

On returningto my room I discovered many explosive devices attached to my doorway. With the help of some trusty nail scissors the devices were disabled and I regained entry to my room with 5 new devices.

Better luck next time

Lady Pxx

[22:00pm] Dark Helmet assassinated Djuke Veldhuis (Daffy)

Daffy reports:

A cowardly attempt was successfully made on my life last night in Girton college by a certain Dark Helmet. I had just gotten back from a formal college dinner (and was thus not carrying any weapons) when he sneaked up behind me just as I was about to enter my room. I failed to close the door before the nerf gun fired and am now presumably 'dead'.

Dark Helmet reports:

Yesterday evening as she returned from a formal hall. Enquiries about the target to a fellow student revealed that she was at a formal dinner, and had even borrowed a gown from my informant. Just minutes later, I saw a begowned figure climbing the stairs, followed her up the tower (to the right room) and shot her most honourably in the back. She realised she was being followed and tried to run in and close the door, but to no avail.

The weapon used was a portable ICBM (Intra-Collegiate Ballistic Missile), essentially a one shot weapon, albeit a powerful one.

[22:35pm] El Sicario assassinated Helen Cousins (Diziet)

El Sicario reports:

Memo to Det. Chief Inspector Corleone
>From Sgt. Capone
Criminal Investigation Department
Cambridge Police Department
Re: Murder of
Helen Cousins

Sir, Forensics have just finished processing the evidence we found at the site of the shooting which took place just outside Newnham College. We found the bullet which killed Diziet: 10 mm calibre, fired by a COP Rubber Pellet pistol, by all eye witness accounts the only shot fired in the shooting. Ballistics have linked the bullet to a similar one found in a Colombian crime scene, confirming our suspicions that the perpetrator is the Colombian Assassin that Interpol have warned us about, known only as El Sicario (refered to hereafter as ES). In collaboration with phone taps from Interpol and eye witness accounts, forensics have pieced together the sequence of events:

At 8.00 pm ES arrived just outside Newnham with the intention of attending a meeting of the Tolkien Society, which was being hosted in Diziet's room. At 8:20 pm ES attempted to phone Cousins to try to lure her out of her room, with the pretext that he was lost and needed her to shown him where he needed to go. The call was never answered: we beleive that by chance Helen Cousins had briefly left her room. At 8:30 pm the meeting began and Diziet was under the protection of an official Cambridge society, so ES was not allowed to make an attempt on her life. The meeting lasted until 10:35, at which point the entire group began to walk to the pub. Diziet was now out of the protection of her group, although ES probably wanted to ensure an escape route in case he missed. When they stepped outside of the college, ES was finally able to confront Cousins alone and outdoors, so he took out his pistol and fired a single shot at an approximate range of 50 cm.

Unfortunatly, ES has escaped us and we cannot discern his true identity from eye witness accounts. Amazingly, however, the assassin forgot to take his bag and jacket with him when he left, and these items were left in Cousins' room when the kill was made! Forensics have confirmed the presence of dead skin cells with DNA matching that of ES (from data provided by the Colombian police). We are keeping Helen Cousins's room under surveillance in case ES tries to retrieve these possessions, which we consider to be very likely, given how careful and thorough ES has proven to be.

Although paramedics told us that the shot was fatal, Cousins is in intensive care in the hospital, and we are currently awaiting confirmation of her death from the medical staff there.

With regards, Sgt Capone.

Diziet reports:

I'm dead.

Killed by a very devious method of pretending to be interested in Tolkien, coming to the CTS (staying for two hours in my crowded room, some achievement I feel) and then shooting with a cap gun on the way out to the pub (doh! thought I knew who all the assassins in the CTS were...).

[23:00pm] The Guru made an attempt on Phineas

The Guru reports:

Having gained access to the heavily guarded building, the Guru hurried about his task. Glancing around him to make sure he was alone, and rapping on his target's door to see if he could save himself more hassle than was necessary, he began. The movements came as second nature to him by now, allowing his mind to double check every connection as it was made. There was no room for error. Finished, he checked again that no poor souls had witnessed this act and made his exit, safe in the knowledge that his victim will never know what hit him.

Phineas reports:

Phineas, the murderous hippie chemist, stepped through the door of his building to see a suprising sight : a large bottle of liquid explosive with a cardboard sign reading "BOMB" attached propped up against his door. "Aw...man. What a bringdown." Closer inspection revealed a sensitive cap detonator mechanism. Thinking quickly, Phineas appropriated a long length of that slalwert ally, toilet paper, from nearby and tied it carefully around the bomb before retreating to a good distance and disposing of the device in a controlled detonation. "Far out, man. Pretty colors."

[23:05pm] The Gentleman Assassin assassinated Ben Esche (Ben Esche)

The Gentleman Assassin reports:

I'd just got back into bed when the phone rang again.
'I gave you that Dossier this morning, why are none of them dead?' The phone clicked off. I reached over and picked up the dossier again stunned to find people inside other than the pretty but deadly girl. Feeling so utterly tired as so often happens these days I selected the target closest to me.

'For Queen and Country' I muttered as I armed myself against the dangers ahead. No more personal feelings this was just a job.

I went to where Ben Esche was known to frequent and timed my arrival with the closing of his local pub. I settled down for a Morland cigerette and waited for him to return.. He did and was duely dispacted.
I dont know why this man had to die but an officer has to obey his orders. Now I need to sleep, deathly tired again. If only they allowed agents to retire...

Ben Esche reports:

On returning to my abode last night I was on fullest alert. knowing that a killer could be lurking around any corner (and there are plenty of corners) i was taking the utmost care. it seemed that I had reached my room without incident, merely to find a harmless object near my door, that was not, on later (after-death) inspection, a bomb. however, it soon transpired that the owner of said object had been relieving himself in my own bathroom--the cheek! The Gentleman Assassin quickly rounded the corner but a long stand-off ensued. perhaps he had not expected me to be carrying a gun at all. after a few minutes of chit-chat he emerged from behing the door where he had been cowering and took a few shots at me. realising the time had come for action i stepped out and attempted to return fire, but my gun misfired. noticing this, the cunning assailant ran forwards in the few seconds before i could return my weapon to working order and blew most of my face off. the moral, i suppose, is to buy a better gun.

[23:15pm] The Guru made an attempt on Tweedle Dee

The Guru reports:

Carefully, stealthily and skillfully, the Guru went about his maccabre trade. Making the final adjustment and stepping back he had just enough time to admire his handiwork before turning briskly and moving away. Behind him the bomb waited primed and ready for its unfortunate victim.

Tweedle Dee reports:

yesterday, at approximately 11.30 pm an attempt was made on my life, with a bomb. however, my (playing) accomplice managed to defuse it in time from the outside.

Wednesday, 22 October

[09:10am] Jennifer Chaste assassinated Jonathan Amery (Harmonious Jade)

Jennifer Chaste reports:

I've got this song stuck in my head which goes something like:
"Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Lurking Lurking Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Lurking Lurking Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Lurking Lurking Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Badger Argh! It's
Harmonious Jade! Kill! Kill!

Harmonious Jade dies in a hail of rubber bands and pellets.

Oh, and I just lost the game.

Harmonious Jade reports:

I forgot to check for enemies when I stepped out of the door this morning, so when I turned to lock it I was surprised by a hard pain beneath my shoulder-blade, and felt my life-blood spilling out.

I turned, it was Jennifer Chaste, staggered, and fell to the ground. Knowing that my time was near I commended my essence to the Unconquered Sun and breathed out my last words:

You could've trusted me, Jenny...

[13:00pm] The King of Wrong assassinated Ben Zealley (Mercy)

The King of Wrong reports:

I've just made attempts - by contact poisoned (red glitter) letters - on all three of my targets. Hopefully at least one of them will be dead within 24 hours. I made sure the envelopes didn't leak but if collateral damage occurs, so be it...

Mercy reports:

Today was a tiring day.

Only one lecture (yay, I say, for fortnightly practicals) but I then had to go shopping... and with a walk home as long as mine, carrying two giant bags of Sainsbury's goods, I was a little exhausted on arriving at our flat. After collapsing onto the couch, my wife came out with the mail we'd received that morning.

I'd received a letter with handwriting my wife insisted was my father's (it was very messy, so much so that it had been stamped "Please PRINT the postcode" which added further evidence to this theory). Despite my fatigue she wouldn't let me get away without assuaging her curiosity about its contents, so I opened it to see glitter inside the flap. Laura, reliably, grabbed it from me, thinking it was a glittery birthday card (it having been my birthday on the 14th). That was right about when we realised how toxically poisonous the glitter was... and it was all over both of our hands! What's more, it proved near-impossible to wash off :( (And is still in our carpet x.x)

So we're dead. Most unhappy about this. >:

In future, please refrain from killing wife; v. messy, and she bitches.


[13:25pm] Lu Tze assassinated Martin Lester (Professional Librarian)

Professional Librarian reports:

Checking my mail after "librarians' training" (lectures) this morning, I discovered that my RBG had arrived. I returned to my "librarian's office", where I spent an hour or so "doing physics examples" and losing much of my ammunition in the process.

I fashioned a makeshift holster to hide my new weapon within my librarian's cloak, alongside my razor-sharp index card (knife) and headed off to hall for lunch. Embarassingly, it fell onto the floor while I was presenting my "library card". Fortunately, no-one hostile seemed to notice.

Before making my assassination attempt, I still needed one more piece of equipment. I headed off to Maplin and bought a cheap microphone, before making my way through the labyrinthine mess of courts that was my target's college.

After asking the porters for directions twice and misreading my handwriting once, I located my target's staircase. I put the lead of the microphone in my cloak pocket and held the head up high, walking around in the general direction of my target's room.

I reached the room and knocked on the door, microphone still held in the air. I tried again; still there was no reply. I began to walk away, when I met someone coming up the stairs. Him: Hi. Me: Hello. Him: What are you doing? Me: I'm making an avant-garde sound picture of Cambridge in the "musique concrete" style. What I'm doing is I'm walking around Cambridge, recording unusual sounds. Have you been into the Cockroft Building? Him: (nodding sagely) Yeah. Me: The lift in there makes a really cool sound like the TARDIS when it opens of the ground floor. Him: Oh, I haven't been in the lift. Me: I'm also recording some of the ordinary background sounds of Cambridge to form a background for the sound picture. Him: I see. (withdrawing a knife and stabbing me in the chest) Well, I'd better do this just in case. Me: Blast.

(my ghost continues the converation)

Him: That's got to be the strangest excuse I've ever heard. What are you actually doing? Me: Oh, this microphone isn't connected to anything.

My target obviously hadn't listened to enough Radio 3: the only radio station quiet enough for professional librarians. The lessons to be learned from this are thus:
1. Make sure you know what your target looks like, so that you can tell if they return to their room while you are knocking on the door.
2. Don't pretend to be an avant-garde sound artist.

Lu Tze reports:

Lut-Ze's 10,000 year diary (excerpt.)

So I was in the garden when the abbot approached me. - Apparantly the disc is approaching another inhabited planet. This planet was unusual in the fact that it had something claled "pure history." - in that, there was no-one going around mucking with history or anything, the timeline of the planet was a simple straight line.

The history books for earth are very interesting, there doesn't seem to be any amgic, but the technological advances are far superior to those on the disc. Of course, the inhabitants wiped themselves out in the year of the putrid weasel, but still, they created some very interesting devices indeed.

Unfortunately, the Disc seems set to ruin this nice pure history though, the proximity of the two worlds to each other is not a stable thing, and their history has been changing. - Namely the problem is the discovery of the disc, something I was sent to put right. Without a few tweaks their influence would seriously disrupt the history of our own world. I decided to deal with the problem at its source. In the year 2006 (Earth years are so strangely named, how you're supposed to remember which year is which when they're all so similar....) a group of scientists, mathmaticians and engineers and similar ilk of character managed to invent a new type of gizmo that would detect the presence of the disc within it's little time-pocket that we set up to render it invisible... okay, so the technicals aren't important, - but simply changing the course of their lives a little would likely remove this discovery from earth history long enough for us to pass on by.

The Abbot, of course, when asking me for a "favour" had already calculated a list of those most likely to need some tweaking, and so I set off to do what I could.

------------------- Reconnaissance.

I decided to start low by keeping a low profile, the last thing I want is for people to start "noticing" me. It's far easier to alter history when no-one's looking. Hopefully I could keep my presence low-key until the task was done.

Sadly however, when returning from a quick stroll, I noticed a rather strange individual in a green anorak standing knocking on my door. I observed for a while, and was aghast to see him produce a stick from his coat (later this was revealed to be called a "microphone") and start waving it in the air around my home.

The earth has very powerful intelligence gathering systems, this man must have observed my approach. I decided the safest thing to do would be to dispose of him before anyone noticed. No-one ever sees a knife coming, especially when engaged in polite conversation.

A lucky escape.

[13:30pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101(Lachlan McLean) caused extreme pain and ultimately death to The Illegal Non-Player (John Haigh)

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

I accidentally shot the Blood Animal John Haigh today. It was an act of extreme bravery - as my gun slid off my lap I caught it and pulled the trigger so as to shoot the unsuspecting John in his pride and glories, provoking a quiet groan as he slumped forward with tears in his eyes. I am not sure about the ruling on this - does this mean that the part in question is disabled until it heals? Libby might have something to say if it does...

Blood! Honour! Glory!

John Haigh reports:

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 and I were sitting feasting on our banquet of 1000 dishes when I was honourably killed. It took me a while to work out what was going on as I was in retirement. I had decided that a few thousand kills was enough honour, blood and glory for one lifetime. The blood baron has some catching up to do though. He thought that if he killed me then he could take my place as bloodiest blood knight ever. Hah, I will return more powerful than a guinea-pig can imagine!!!

We were discussing the many merits of axes when it happened. His gun fell out of his pocket (so he says) and upon catching it, it went off me and he shot me in the socks (anyone else read monstrous regiment yet? Tis good) and after a brief surge of crippling pain my frail (and retired) body collapsed. Damn the honour of the killing!

I wonder how many assassins have been shot in the socks?
If anyone knows send me an email.

For this agonising act of cruelty, I have to make Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101(Lachlan McLean) wanted. He is a legal target for all players and police, although please respect his Out of Bounds status while working.

[13:58pm] Diziet made an attempt from beyond the grave on Dardanian Paris

Dardanian Paris reports:

I would like to report an attempt made on my life, by the assassin formerly known as Diziet (who has now, alas, passed away in an unfortunate, but unrelated, incident). I found in my pigeon hole at half-one a suspicious looking envelope. It had not been sent by Royal Mail and I did not recognise the handwriting, so I knew it had not been hand delivered by one of my friends. I returned to my room to investigate. Suspecting the worst, I wrapped my hands in clingfilm to avoid any poison that may have been contained. Taking my trusty kitchen knife, I carefully made a small hole in the bottom of the envelope, aware that the detonators for letter-bombs are often located on the top of the envelope. Unsurprisingly, a small quantity of powder became visible. Carefully extending the opening, I emptied the powder onto a piece of paper which was consigned to the waste bin. I then extracted the letter. It read as follows:

'This is a letter for the mock assassination game run by the Assassins Guild.
'The substance contained is flour, and is totally harmless.
'Queries to the umpire rab71@cam.ac.uk
'Oh, and you're dead

I made a copy of this for my own personal reference and threw the contaminated original away. Little does Diziet realise that, due to my caution and foresight, I am in fact very much alive.

[14:10pm] Guthrie assassinated Tom Carver (T1000)

Guthrie reports:

Woah, I just kicked some serious ass. T1000 came to my door, sniffling for some reason, then knocked after 5 minutes, saying "Is that Guthrie?" "Yes, what is it?" I replied, rejoicing that my paranoia was finally justified. "Some guy downstairs told me to give you this note, about the assassins." "Just put it under the door" replied I. Nothing came, so I knew the heat was on. Prepairing my silenced pistol and bulet proof glass shield, I threw open my door, backed off, waited.


I peeked my head aroung the door, only to feel death himself breathing down my neck. A bullet (rubber band) skimmed past my head, just missing my skull, ricocheting off the wall. I then charged into the jaws of death, all guns blazing. "Naaaaaaaaaaaaaah" I cried, gallopping headlong to my nemesis, tracer rounds whipping by so close to my body as to hole my clothes. I cornered T1000 against a window, took aim, and said, "You shall pay for your misdeeds, Tom Carver." I levelled my pistol, emptied the magazine into his by now limp, blood spattered body, and laughed as he fell backwards, out of the window and lay several floors down in a soggy mess.

T1000 reports:

Still slightly ruffled from a clash with a rude Trinity porter who interpreted my trying to contaminate someone's mail as an attempt to steal it, I strode up to the door, doing a quick mental checklist: water pistol (not allowed in his room); up watch strap. elastic band; around right wrist. Knife; concealed in sock. I transferred it to my right sleeve.

I knocked. "Hello?" "Hi, is that ...Guthrie?" "Yeah..?" "I bumped into this guy downstairs, said he was from this assassins thing, and gave me this note he said I had to give you?" "OK, post it under the door." I remained silent, and ducked round to the right of the door, square, waiting for the inevitable gunfight when he realised I was the assassin, elastic band now poised and ready.

After a pause the door slowly opened; damn, I had positioned myself without a decent view of his room! I waited in position, until he suddenly leaned out to the left, water pistol ready. I fired at his head. The elastic band (maybe I should have learned my lesson from last time) missed, hitting the wall on the near side of the door an inch from the door, and richocheting a similar distance past his head. But a near miss is a near miss. I ran for cover, unsheathing my water pistol and raising it to fire behind, and it slowly dawned on me that my other weapons had beene just that teensy bit too far out of reach...

Then the water leaked into my circuits and the world was safe once more.

[15:30pm] Anonymous Coward assassinated Georgia Walker-Churchman (sliver)

Anonymous Coward reports:

Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.

- Sun Tzu's Art of War

I sat, motionless within my inner sanctum and prepared myself for the strife that would surely lie ahead. Everything was prepared. My weapons laid out beside me, the knowledge of my opponent committed to my mind. I went forth, whether to honour or to death.

Moving through the shadowlands I came upon the mighty fortress in the heart of which I knew my adversary dwelled. Infiltrating the defenses I stealthily crept through the darkness towards my destination. The road was a perilious one and more than once I was overwhelmed by doubt but I fought on against myself until I came to the point at which just one door seperated me from glory. Beating upon the door I was answered from the inside and making a vague excuse heard sounds of movement within. Adrenalin surged... did my target realise who I was? Were they arming themselves to kill me even now? But no, my craft was too great for that. As the door opened I slashed across their undefended neck with my knife and stood motionless over the bleeding corpse.

Finally drawing my breath in I left the stench of death behind and returned. Evil plots don't make themselves, you know....

[16:45pm] Phineas made an attempt on Mean Mr. Mustard

Phineas reports:

Phineas was walking home when it struck him it was a nice day for some killing. On impulse he diverted his course to his victim's college and approached his room. Carefully checking there was no-one about, and encouraged by the music coming from his victim's pad ( "Groovy, man" ), he knocked on the door, gun in hand. A voice! "Who is it?" He hadn't prepared for this kind of grilling. "Ummm...Bob". "Bob who?" "Bob...Thompson." "No, Sorry. Don't know him." Damn... "Well, I'm going to get you eventually. Bye."

[17:25pm] Guthrie assassinated Simeon Bird (Bladud)

Guthrie reports:

Freedom is wasted on the free. That's what cynics say, but in my opinion, it is only wasted on ignorance. This was the crime of Bladud, who believed the cunning ruses of my unnamed acomplice, opened his door, and started explaining away his questions about, well, you don't need to know.

And so, deep in conversation, yet armed, it would seem, with an rbg, young Simeon Bird didn't notice me coming in with my own rbg, take aim, and shoot at 1m range. Firing wildly in his death throws, his bands flew well clear.

That's one more assassin who doesn't have to worry about paranoia any more.

Bladud reports:

I was brutally slaughtered by an rbg wielding assassin whilst his accomplice kept me talking. I had refused entry at first, but my pananioa must be yet larger next time...

[17:35pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 murdered another two innocents

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

Two deaths to report (both innocents)

17.30 I shot Sam Blackburn, because he was less than honourable.

17.35 I shot Jenny's neighbour, Joanne, for nearly getting me killed yesterday. I was very brave for shooting her, I think.

Here we go!

[18:45pm] Mirabellaninani assassinated Isabella Eastham (Diz)

Diz reports:

at 6,45 pm today in the bar I regret to inform the umpire and the world i was shot in the back by a smug Mirabellaninani infront of my brokenhearted and now extremely vengeful fiance, I retaliated by shooting her in the neck only milliseconds after her shot but fear I may have been only too late for my shot to have made any impact as my dying blurred vision overcame me. adieu.

Mirabellaninani reports:

Yesterday I stupidly revealed that my target was Diz to someone who has good reason to have a grudge against me. I spent the rest of the day barricaded in my room in terror, and when I needed to hand my essay in I got some contacts to escort me there. But there was no need for that!

Last night at 7pm I was sitting in the bar when I saw Diz come in and stand with her back to me. I shot her twice in the back.

[19:00pm] The King of Wrong assassinated Elizabeth Cleave (bc)

The King of Wrong reports:

I've just made attempts - by contact poisoned (red glitter) letters - on all three of my targets (below). Hopefully at least one of them will be dead within 24 hours. I made sure the envelopes didn't leak but if collateral damage occurs, so be it...

bc reports:

i am unfortunately dead, i was assassinated yesterday by a poison letter.

[19:45pm] The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory assassinated Robert Norton (Robert Norton)

The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory reports:

Oglethorpe: Vell vell, Emory. It looks as though ze boot is vell and truly on ze other foot.

Emory: Yeah, with his door open like, you know, that, it was like he was inviting us to invite him.

Emory: Woah, that's like deep or something.

Oglethorpe: Ze bullets, zey vere like ze stars zis time.

Emory: What, you mean fatal and covered in blood?

Oglethorpe: ...

Oglethorpe: Yah.

Oglethorpe: Zweiten!

Robert Norton reports:

I was mercilessly shot to death with an elastic band gun by The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory at 7.45pm today.

[21:00pm] Debonair Chap made an attempt on Kazuo Kiriyama

Debonair Chap reports:

It was just before the stroke of 9 that I approached the room of Kazuo Kiriyama, heavily disguised.

I managed to bluff my way past the entryphone into his block, and stealthily approached the room, bracing my water pistol. I knocked. A voice answered.

I began, "Hi, you know about the party in the JCR downstairs? We're starting in five minutes. Just come on down and join us."

He mumbled something about being too tired from overwork and having an early night. I sighed inwardly- any further insistence would arouse suspicion.

"Oh, okay, suit yourself- goodnight." I concluded, for no true assassin is without some courtesy, even when undercover.

Then a notion dawned. His bathroom was next door, and assuming he would shortly be bedbound, then he may at least brush his teeth, if not have a shower or bath. I waited there, large axe in hand. Five minutes passed. Then a voice from behind the door called, "You know I can see you there" Drat- even though I was at least a full metre to the side of the door, I hadn't reckoned for the circular curvature of the spy hole in his door. There was little more to be done- I slinked away in paranoia.

As I reached the exit I told myself that with the logic of the internal layout, he shouldn't have a facing window- but just in case, I might as well run.

A good thing I did, too. He was there at the window, supersoaker in hand, taking extended potshots at me as I dashed away at least as fast as Bertie Wooster on boatrace night after his encounter with the law. I ran down the street, as fast as I could, just in case he was following me. Lokked at myself up and down, and though I'd heard a lot of water hitting the walls, I wasn't sure if he had hit me or not- I couldn't see any sign of hits on the light-coloured jacket I was wearing.

When I returned to my college bar, XXXX minutes later, I recounted this to my friends and compatriots, and asked a good half-dozen of them to inspect my light-coloured jacket and I for any signs of water spray, and I am relieved to reply we couldn't find a drop.

The (Mildly Embarrassed, but still) Debonair Chap

Kazuo Kiriyama reports:

A knock on the door of his abode. Kazuo Kiriyama grimaces; now is time for sleep, not the glory of ending human life. A party?


The inept assassin waves a gun at a passing neighbour. Kazuo Kiriyama leaves to snipe his would-be killer.


Time passes. Too much time. Kazuo Kiriyama checks the door again. An ambush... an axe by the looks of it. Kazuo Kiriyama lets off a warning shot and his assailant retreats. Kazuo Kiriyama returns to his sniping point, but too slow: the escape has been made.

Kazuo Kiriyama's actions disappoint him: far too subtle. He needs time to rest

[21:00pm] The King of Wrong made an attempt on The Yellow Dart

The Yellow Dart reports:

This evening I collected (amongst much spam) an extremely suspicious letter from my pigeon hole, and returned with it to my secure abode. Bearing my room number (superfluous) and a Cambridge postmark, and making strange noises when shaken, I thought it might be prudent to investigate the item in my forensic lab before eating the envelope whole along with my other mails. Having borrowed a neighbors anthrax-grade marigolds, my diamond-edged Victorinox was sufficient to gain access to the purple sparkly Payload Of Death, whereupon I could safely harvest DNA and fingerprint evidence. (lab report due before the weekend -- expect a visit.) In conclusion, The Yellow Dart lives on.

[21:45pm] !!ptXd!p~ assassinated Ross Fenning (The Interceptor)

!!ptXd!p~ reports:

Radio Intercept Dispatch 1a039b. Eyes Only Intelligence Directorate Deputy Director.

Comments: Transcript with known agent names highlighted. Report forwarded to technical services for more detailed analysis.

transcript follows:

!!ptXd!p~ !!da ~X crik!k ~~klaX !xacc tli! c!ptCxha kr! n'crlak!! t!clk ek!


initial translation attempt follows:

!!ptXd!p~ reporting to base (unknown). Detected hostile presence ...(untranslatable static)... terminated.

[22:00pm] The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory assassinated Mark Sibuns (Dark Star)

The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory reports:

Oglethorpe: (angry) Emory! Vot is this betrayal!

Emory: Dude, I've already told you that I don't have, like, any clue at all as to how...

Oglethorpe: (angry) He knew you, affenschwanz!

Emory: Hey man, I know a lo- like a lot of people. I can't help it that I'm, you know, this handsome shade of green and, like, it totally gave you the opportunity to invite him. You know, the th- thing with the bullets?

Oglethorpe: Yah, drei! It is a wonder zat ze Melterium isn't packed. Vhere is everyone?

Emory: I don't know... maybe it takes like some time for humans to regenerate vital organs or something.

Oglethorpe: Don't be stupid, dummkopf.

Dark Star reports:

I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you but I am now dead, killed last week, by I can't remember but I'm sure he told you.

[23:31pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 assassinated an American

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

During all this I also shot some random American bloke at 11.30pm outside Robinson, because he had his hand in his pocket and I thought he might just be Jon Woolgar. Turns out I was wrong - ho hum.

Being wanted is fun, nay? :-) I think I'll take you up on the offer of a drink. Make mine a pint.

A pint of BLOOD! ;-)

Thursday, 23 October

[01:00am] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 made an attempt on Lemming Hunter

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

I have been a bit naughty again. I walked to Trinity and smeared toothpaste on Lemming Hunter's doorhandle and legged it. Being wanted is fun, nay?

Lemming Hunter reports:

It's 01:00 and I very narrowly missed death. Upon wandering out of my room to go to the bathroom I came back and upon opening my door, which luckily requires me not to touch the handle but just turn the key, noticed a large amount of white contact poison on the underside of my doorhandle. Upon cleaning with kitchen roll, this appeared to have the smell of toothpaste. I am unaware who would want to eliminate a police officer, or who should want to go wanted, but it was a narrow escape due only to the cunningness of my door.

[12:00pm] Professional Librarian poisoned Paul Cameron (The Angry Scotsman) despite having died before the victim opened the letter!

Professional Librarian reports:

Examining the library's records, I noted that a The Angry Scotsman had not returned a number of books. I wrote him a letter informing him of his error, enclosing his "late return fine", and delivered it to his pigeonhole at 07:05 this morning.

I hope he will be more punctual in returning books in future.

Professional Librarian.

[12:05pm] You have no chance to survive, make your time!(Stefano Debolini) assassinated An Innocent

You have no chance to survive, make your time! reports:

While leaving a lecture I was viciously attacked by an aggressive, abusive, evil civilian. He called me nasty names and threw stones at me. I felt compelled to defend myself, I pulled out my sword and drawing on my ultra-hardcore samurai skills I slashed off the assailants limbs and cut his left kidney out of his body with surgical precision. Then I rearranged his torso to look like a smiley face. After the red mist had passed I realised that I had just killed an innocent. I had to eat a whole pizza before the guilt would pass.

Civilian comment: "Blaaerrrgrggdhahsdghasgdjh! My kidney! Give me back my kidney! Aaaaarrgghhhh...."

Sadly just because someone is calling you names and throwing stones doesn't mean they're trying to kill you. You have no chance to survive, make your time! is made wanted for this.

[13:30pm] man who eats aborted foetuses made an attempt on The King of Wrong

man who eats aborted foetuses reports:

"Hmmmmm.....The King of Wrong.....an awfully common name, is it not? As best as my current facility for the etymology of nomenclature serves me on this fine and moist gloaming, "The King of Wrong" derives from the Norse meaning "well informed and politically astute", and from the Persian for "not very". Verily, I simply could not summon the stinging, gallant mettle that privileges a classic and dignified death, for the purposes of what is ostensibly an inbred, impure-bloodling. They often make well as boot boys, arse-wipes and oakum pickers, so under no grounds do they deserve an honorable fight. How could I gaze at such a foul pedigree? - I would be cheapened and violated by his sheer presence. Clearly this was the case for the third person narrative. Hence, I nullified the quench for full-on blood sports and decided to leave the great I am to my own, explosive devices. Patently, I constructed from the finest poplar trees, teased from the sun-burnished fields of Tuscany, an elaborate envelope, which at its jammy core lay a small surprise for my unwitting victim: "BANZAI!!!!!!!!!" (via electronic voice chip speaker thingimibob). I must admit, while almost immaculate in its presentation, to such a calibre that any suspicion aroused in the recipient would be immediately overruled by visual-cognitive drive, and thus cause him to take the bait like a gormless guppy fish, the flap of the irksome letter cut my fingers to shreds, and I had to selotape the edges down. This may prove my undoing. However, if providence has prevailed on my behalf, then by the morning the guileless untermensch should be relinquished, for the better of the universe.

For the record, I delivered the letter, incognito, sub rosa, compos mentis, at 10:30pm Greenwhich mean time. At first I was eluded by the apparant lack of a pigeon-hole attributed to The King of Wrong, but the venerable porter reassured me that he would personally deliver it to the aforementioned victim's grotto / shag-pad / hovel. The set-up was impeccable - it would arrive at a sensible hour in the morning with the rest of the post, lulling the bovine-minded bastard-child into a false sense of security. Immediately after the plant, I hot-footed into the darkness with a great transcendental feeling of confidence. After all, we are a species of elation and exhaltation, are we not, my poppets?

I left a small note, which, if my linguistic double-knavery is fully digested and comprehended by the babooned-faced cretin, should instruct him to report back on the success, or perhaps, foiling of my letter-bomb.

The pen, for once, is mightier than the sword, but in every other opportunity, please prepare to eat my steel.

I must sally on, I have puppies to drown."

The King of Wrong reports:

"You've got mail!"

Unfortunately, since nobody knows my address here and I've therefore had no mail since moving in, the odds of it being a 'special letter' seem rather good. I return to my pidgeonhole with the relevant tools - welding gloves, bomb-disposal bag and a stick to poke at the device. Poke. Poke. Put bag on floor and push suspicious letter into bag from as far away as possible. It makes a sound something like bad opera being mumbled through a sock. The not-entirely-fiendish device claims to be from 'man who eats aborted foetuses' whoever that might be...

After sending multiple poisoned letters myself, wouldn't it seem logical that I'd be more than a little paranoid when checking my mail?"

[16:00pm] JJ Wilkes assassinated Nick Wood (Lord FishKebab)

JJ Wilkes reports:

I would like to report the death of Lord FishKebab.

I killed him.

With a gun.

At about 3:00 pm.


Very ish.

I'm sure he can fill in all the other details.

JJ Wilkes

Lord FishKebab reports:

Just after the stroke of five I was sitting in my study composing my memoirs, when a youth rudely peers through the window and hollers "What room is this?", destroying my concentration in the proccess. I decide I may as well tell him, "it's 47D" I reply, and he wanders off, maybe to listen to rock and roll or whatever it is todays youth's do. Alas the damage was done and I could no longer focus on my important lifes work, so I decide to take a stroll to clear my head so I can spend the evening in front of my books. Anyway I head forth into town, I have some important documents to deliver so I take them with me on my perambulation. On the way out of my manor house whilst I was unlocking one of many of my high-security gates, I feel two sharp stabs of pain in my back. I turn round to look and see a yob brandishing some form of projectile weapon, I slump to the floor in a heap and as my vision fades a familiar face looms out of the trees, the youth who not only distracted me from my important work played a role in my untimely demise, but alas he himself did not conduct the act himself. Obviously the mastermind had hired someone else to do the dirty work.

Alas my memoirs will never be finished, if I had not been disturbed I could have finished the final page, and my lifes record could have lived on forever, but it wasn't to be. Who would want an old crock like me dead anyway? I guess I'm cursed to live frustrated in the afterlife...

[18:00pm] Lord Sainsbury made an attempt on innocent bystander

Lord Sainsbury reports:

ok, to let you know ive despatched two letter (talc) bombs, one each to (someone else) and innocent bystander.

innocent bystander reports:

Someone (Lord Sainsbury) tried to send me a poison letter but it failed, that's about it really, not very interesting, oh well.... innocent bystander

[18:00pm] Lord Sainsbury made an attempt on The Minion of Myxomatosis

Lord Sainsbury reports:

ok, to let you know ive despatched two letter (talc) bombs, one each to The Minion of Myxomatosis and (someone else)

The Minion of Myxomatosis reports:

Dear Screaming Lord Sainsbury,

For your edification, may I present a list of traits shared by successful poisoned letters, and notably absent from your recent attempt:

1. The envelope should be white, of a standard size, and reasonable quality. I recommend the central Post Office as a good source of such.
2. Official correspondance within Cambridge University is almost always addressed by initials and surname only.
3. While genuine letters are sometimes sent with handwritten names, they instantly arouse suspicion. Experimenting with your college's printers and aforementioned plain envelopes, or, even better, a sheet of address labels should quickly produce convincing results.
4. The letter should be printed on plain paper, and folded neatly, as in official correspondance.
5. While it is possible to use too little contact poison, there is certainly such a thing as too much. If it produces a noticable bulge, something is wrong.
6. Contact poison should ideally be loose in the envelope, with the aim of killng the victim as they grasp the exposed edge of the letter to remove it.
7. Scented poisons do not function to kill more efficiently, but they do alert the victim - obtaining unscented talcum powder, or just finely ground flour, is suggested.

In short, the poisoned letter is much attempted, and rarely successful. An trait shared almost universally by successful poisoned letter killings is that the victim was not suspicious until it was too late. Your attempt on me distinctly lacked this property.

2/10. Try Harder.

Yours Faithfully,

[18:30pm] Samba assassinated Radoslav Nespor (Shalashaska)

Samba reports:

Oh it's a windy and sunny day. The many summers and many great games. Guess it's another trouble-free day. Our playground's so huge, we don't know where it ends.

Or at least I thought so this morning. As it turned out it wasn't the sunniest of days, although there was certainly no lack of wind and Cambridge seems to be becoming smaller by the day. However, another trouble free day was certainly on the cards and I just thought to myself:

Everyday's a new beginning - Yeah! We don't know who we're going to meet today.

However, when I heard a knock at the door, I had a horrible feeling that I DID know who I was going to meet. It was the men in white coats - come to take me away from my special friends - my maracas. I lost no time readying my weapons, knowing that they would be ready for a fight. I heard the door open and all of a sudden a "You're dead" came from around the corner! I rushed through into the corridor where I saw my room mate lying dead on the floor, knife still sticking out from his chest. I glanced up and saw, not the hordes of men I was expecting, but one man alone. Didn't he know? Well too late now. I remember shooting him - to start with. I'm not sure exactly what happened next, but I do remember seeing red and then cleaning the carpets for the next hour. Still, as I said at the time: We present you with a gift - Welcome to our special paradise.

Strange paradise I know, but a first year compsci might be happy knowing that what's left of him remains in the freezer. I mean, you can never tell when the tortillas are going to run out, can you? Still, this is one strategically shaved monkey that's happy he's still got an excuse to Samba.

Shalashaska reports:

After a day of listening to things as far away from assassination as can be, Shalashaska attempted to return his mind to the real world. Bravely he plunged into the night to fulfill his task, but his way was bound with doom. He was betrayed by his senses, and a moment after his victim's room-mate fell to his feet, he was stabbed by the bullet that was not his, the herald of death, whose identity he in his last moments did recognize. Behind the steaming barrel, his true target stood, saved by a twist of fate and the sacrifice of a friend. Alas, I have departed.


Incidentally, Shalashaska would have gone wanted for the murder of Samba's roommate. However I suspect he was too busy dying to fully appreciate this.

[19:01pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 made an attempt on Ian Horne

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

Hehehe more naughtiness:

First I went round to Churchill. I found the staircase, and left some poison on a doorhandle thinking it was Ian Horne's room . It wasn't, so I searched properly and found Ian Horne's room. The back of this poor dishonourable soul's doorhandle is now minty fresh.

Ian Horne reports:

Someone poisoned a doorhandle. This is a lame way to try to kill anyone, especially someone who doesn't use their doorhandle. Thus someone is now wanted and soon dead.

[20:00pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 made an attempt on Jonathan Woollgar

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

I proceeded to Robinson to find the venerable Jonathan Woollgar. This one was actually paranoid as far as I can tell, and as I craftily applied the deadly substance to the handle of door I heard a creak and stepped back in horror as the door came open. Maybe it wasn't shut properly and no-one was inside, but I wasn't taking any chances and so pegged it out of the college despite my bloodlust urging me to kill kill kill. Sadly I dropped my toothbrush at the bottom of the stairs - I *do* hope Jonathan Woollgar picked up the bristly minty end >:-)

[20:00pm] Dark Helmet assassinated Ligia Osepciu (Dominette)

Dark Helmet reports:

Yesterday evening. The old knock on the door and nerf-rocket in the gut tactic. I was wearing a tux so it was kinda James Bond style, though more Tim Dalton than Roger Moore (cos I didn't miss/drop my weapon in some hard-to-reach place).

[20:30pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 made an attempt on Ross Edmondson

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

I breached the security (i.e. open door) of Selwyn Cripps Court, and went a-looking for the dwellers therein. The first one lived so high up the staircase that I decided it was best not to try it. However, I discovered the doorhandle of Ross Edmondson with somewhat greater ease, wiping a dab of toothpaste across the back of the handle with my spare toothbrush and retreating immediately.

[21:00pm] Chicken Brough made an attempt on The Baroque Manpower Policies of Tsarist Russia

Chicken Brough reports:

Having used my ninja skills to get past the Fortress Guards (porters) I proceded to the target. Having scouted out the surrounding area, I proceded to the rabbit hole. After knocking on the door and failing to get him to open it through a cunning game of verbal fencing I was accosted by a friendly (unusual for this college) porter who took me prisoner and tortured me for the next 20 minutes, but not enough to break my ninja spirit. I was released, across the border and made my way back to freedom. My conclusion is: This place is paranoid (some girl phoned the porter's lodge thinking I was a real assassin! Is the whole of college in on this game?), and The Baroque Manpower Policies of Tsarist Russia is going to be a harder target than I thought.

The Baroque Manpower Policies of Tsarist Russia reports:

Roger looked around, cautiously for although the area seemed secure, there was always the possibility of a security guard and sure enough, one came a-knocking on the doors down the corridor toward him. As he turned to flee, he ran into a blue-collar looking distressed. "I say", he said, "is t'Internet working for you?" Roger looked at him for a moment, before responding in the affirmative. This seemed to confuse him, as he said no more but returned to his office to tap fruitlessly at some form of electronic book. Roger realised he had had a close shave and quickly moved on.

[21:00pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 made an attempt on Adam Biltcliffe

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

I soon found myself in Clare Memorial Court, heading for the staircases of Adam Biltcliffe and another. Adam Biltcliffe's timing was superb - he walked in past the p'lodge about 30 seconds after me, as I was trying to find the other room on my target list. We recognised each other from across the grass, and circled round while exchanging pleasantries, and I honourably concluded it was better to leave alive and not pursue my lethal objectives than to try a risky firefight in the dark. So leave I did, at about 9.15ish I think.

Adam Biltcliffe reports:

Cambridge, so peaceful late at night. Streets deserted, odds are almost no-one is trying to kill you. No more than three people, certainly.

Kebab in left hand, gun in right, that's the way I travel. Certainly it is when I'm coming back from Gardies of an evening and college is deserted. You'd almost think there was no need for paranoia.

Deserted in a relative sense, of course. Pass some folks I recognise coming in, no lurking shadows. I'm feeling almost mellow.

But wait! Who's that dark figure with the shopping bags just walking away from my staircase? Surely none other than the red-headed stepchild of the Girton Mafia Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101! He sees me too. "Hi, Adam!" he says with subtlety.

I'm puzzled. Why would he be here, unless he was trying to kill me, and if he's trying to kill me, why is he keeping his distance so nervously? We chat for a while; he is strangely cagey about what his business is here. All the time, I'm expecting him to charge, but he's holding a shopping bag in one hand and I'm fairly sure there's no room on that silhouette for a CPS.

I'm still holding the kebab. I decide that this weighs the odds somewhat against me in a firefight, and that discretion is the better part of valour. We both circle around the courtyard until I am by my staircase and he is by the exit. Then, keeping a careful eye in case he returns, I go inside.

I check for lurkers. I check for bombs. I check for poisoned doorhandles. There are none. I call the police.

[22:25pm] The Yellow Dart assassinated Andrew Sobala (Logout)

The Yellow Dart reports:

.Having visited Sobala Tower on two previous occasions, I was aware that suspicions would be high, its quiet interior belying a buzzing hub of illicit communications. It was clear that Logout was not as naïve as those previously fallen - it was some moments of listening to silence and behaving 'unsuspiciously' after knocking before the door was answered. Drawing rapidly and pulling twice on the trigger, I could only look in embarassment at the jammed mechanism of my weapon as a door was quickly slammed and a hasty escape made. Unsuccessful in my attemts to lure Logout out for a duel, I repaired my weapon, obscured his door's Glass Eye of Omniscience, and withdrew into the furthest reaches of Sobala Tower, expecting reinforcements to arrive in their dozens any minute. A shortly summoned grunt emerged from a neighboring cell, lurching towards me and seeking an explanation of my presence. I explained the unsavoury task to which I was bound, but spared his life until the shady character grabbed for my weapon. Clearly I was dealing with some animatronic drone, as my weapon was useless against him. Whilst still half in the grip of my new mechanical friend, Andrew Sobala charged from his keep wielding a short golden blade. I winced as his lead-riddled body hit the ground.

Logout reports:

For I was sitting in my room, happily contemplating the end of contemplation of differential equations, when there was a knock on my door. Like a lemming I opened it, without my trusty knife, and the rude person tried to shoot me with a rubber band gun.

Due to the rubber bands not firing I safely shut my door again, found the whereabouts of my trusty knife and arranged with an accomplice that he would engage the assassin in happy conversation and steal his gun while I rushed out and stabbed him.

Like most good plans, it completely failed, and I died while running towards him with about 8 bullets in my chest.

But now I know where to get rubber band guns.

[23:45pm] A small and unobtrusive sparrow assassinated Olly Madge (thr33)

A small and unobtrusive sparrow reports:

Cheep. Cheep-cheep. A small and unobtrusive sparrow pecks at the ground. Cheep.

thr33 goes past on a bike.

CHEEP! A small and unobtrusive sparrow flutters into the air in pursuit.

A small and unobtrusive sparrow lands on thr33's shoulder and pecks him to death.


Friday, 24 October

[08:30am] Corkscrew and friends made an attempt on Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101

Corkscrew reports:

Went and lurked round Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101's house this morning with The Mafia and Lemming Hunter. Waited for 1.5 hours in the freezing cold but he didn't show. Maybe the number of suspicious buggers with supersoakers who were hanging around tipped him off. Better luck next time maybe - this man is a threat to us all!

The Mafia reports:

It is unusual, is it not, for a person to come back from the dead? But this is exactly what happened in my case (and that of a number of other people, now I think about it). After the bullet hit my chest, the sensation was strange. There was no blinding pain. In fact, there was a complete absence of pain, and all other sensations. My vision narrowed as if I was looking through a pair of binoculars the wrong way and all of the sounds of the world became strangely distant. Surprisingly, I was not entirely cut off from the world - perhaps I could survive this? Suddenly, a loud voice spoke in my ears, "Your mission in the world was not completed. I also wish to have control of this planet, and you shall be my agent, if you so desire." "You can bring me back to life?" I replied incredulously. "If you wish. But there are certain... conditions." "I don't care. Just do it!" "Very well." All of a sudden, sensation flooded back into my mind and, slightly dazed, I stood up. I noticed Noah Rollf's body in front of me and laughed. I had cheated death but he was dead... but wait, his eyes were opening too! I looked around for a gun and saw my trusty RPG on the floor. Quickly I picked it up and pointed it at his body. For some reason, I couldn't pull the trigger, so I just stood there and watched as Noah got to his feet, found his gun and pointed it at me. He also could not pull the trigger. Subsequent experiments proved that I could not shoot anyone who was not a well-known criminal.

That... THING... installed a conscience in me!

A day or so later, as I felt this new conscience gathering power, I decided to try to take out the latest, most wanted criminal, Lachlan McLean, who worked under the alias Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101. From my confidential sources, I was able to find the address of his hideout for the night, so I gathered a couple of other "newly living" assassins and created an ambush.We didn't see sight or sound of him. It turned out that we had created an ambush around the wrong house. My sources are at this moment enduring unspeakable tortures as a result of wasting my time in this way.

[10:20am] Bryn Griffiths made an attempt on cycad

Bryn Griffiths reports:

Today I sent a poisoned letter to one of my targets, cycad. Sorry about the boringness of this report, but poisened letters aren't that interesting

cycad reports:

On the evening of October 23 I paid a visit to my pigeon-hole. Inside lay a brown envelope with my name and college clumsily inscribed upon it. Hmm, thought I. I shall come back to it. Since I was going out for the evening, I did just that. At 10.20 the next morning I returned with a Sainsbury's bag to put the envelope in. Whoever had sent it must have forgotten that college-college communications are to be sent ICMS, not UMS. The envelope had been annoteted to this fact. Foolishly, I had picked it up the night before without checking for detonators [to no ill effect], but I gave it a poke just in case. No bang. Safely ensheathed in its plastic prison I brought it to my kitchen and prepared a bowlful of decontamination solution. Donning plastic gloves I carefully slit open the end which had not been taped shut. The sellotape had reddish brown dust stuck to the inside of it. This isn't my college bill, then. I tipped the rest of the brown powder into the decontamination bath, and the envelope, and the knife. The letter was still covered in the stuff - I plunged that in too. It was dated 19 October from a certain A S Sassin, who told me I was dealing with paprika and was probably dead. Gathering the remains back into the bag and dropping into the bin. I knew I was not. Didn't half take a while to come through though.

[14:00pm] Professional Librarian made an attempt on You have no chance to survive, make your time!

Professional Librarian reports:

The library's records show that the wanted criminal, You have no chance to survive, make your time!, guilty of such heinous offences as talking loudly and eating, is a student at Churchill.

I made my way to his place of residence, arriving at around 14:00. Information on his appearance was available from the "Freshers' Photo" in the Porters' Lodge.

I located his staircase and crept around, looking for an open window through which I might fire a round. There was none, so I sneaked up the stairs, knocked on the door and waited for a response. There was none. I waited a few minutes to see if my target would appear, but he did not, so I returned to my library.

[15:00pm] The Guru(Adam Baird Fraser) slaughtered Corkscrew (Alex Labram)

The Guru reports:

In a remarkable case of mistaken identity, The Guru killed Corkscrew while he was seated with his back to me at his computer, with the door left open. Again. Oops.

In a related incident, an Emma duck tragically met its fate earlier today, at about 1245hrs.

Corkscrew reports:

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not again!!! Corkscrew has been nobbled by The Guru. This is getting to be a habit.

The miscreant strolled calmly into my room, after sending me an email about linux distros ("the way to a man's heart is through his Linux distro" - Anon). He then pulled out a cap gun and shot me point blank range. This madman is embarking on a killing spree against the police. Beware!!!

...I apologise for the exclamation marks, but I think I'm going to have a heart attack.

For shooting a duck, as well as a member of the Police, Adam Baird Fraser is made wanted. Go get him!

[16:00pm] steve-recede assassinated Chris Salmon (despoiler of worlds)

steve-recede reports:

dear ric, pleased to report one kill so far although not by poison. i waited in the bushes by the college for half an hour to catch despoiler of worlds on his way home from a supervission. a swift supersoaking to the back of the head was all it took. i think, in his last moments, he welcomed death as the fear had taken hold of him somwhat.

[16:01pm] Phineas made an attempt on Mean Mr. Mustard

Phineas reports:

Phineas chuckled clichedly as he applied his latest invention - a deadly poison jelly made from all organic ingredients ( "Dig, it kills in nanogram doses, but it doesn't hurt Mother Nature." ) and not tested on animals ( "How could I hurt my furry brothers, man?" ), or plants ( "They feel pain, man." ) - to a flyer for a hip club he had aquired on one of his cool adventures. The sentimental hippy was momentarily siezed by remorse as he realised his victim would never be able to enjoy the advertised merrymaking so he wrote an apologetic note on the other side : "Too bad you won't be able to dig this groovy music, being dead. Sorry man. Peace. Phineas"

Mean Mr. Mustard reports:

Just reporting that two attempts were made on my life today... I survived them both though as I am paranoid and got other people to open my mail for me. I am very angry as now two of my good friends have been horribly murdered by two different poisoned letters in my pigeonhole. Dunno who sent the first letter; the second one was by 'Cyberdyne-Systems T1o1', or something. I hope these evil terrorists will be murdered with extreme prejudice as otherwise I will soon have no friends left!

Mean Mr. Mustard also received a letter from Cyberdyne Systems T101. However you are not allowed to get non-players to open your mail, and Mean Mr. Mustard has caused the death of two innocents here, so I am forced to make him wanted. As this was more a mistake than an act of evil, I will redeem him if he kills 2 criminals.

[18:00pm] The Guru made an attempt on The Mafia

The Guru reports:

The Guru made an attempt at about 1715hrs on The Mafia, at his room at Emmanuel. Thinking his target mightn't be expecting such an obvious attack, he made a direct attempt, with a cap gun nonetheless. Facing stiff opposition, he made a hasty retreat. Now he knows his target's face.

The Mafia reports:

Some wanted idiot turned up outside my HQ and knocked on the door claiming to be "Adam from upstairs". This was obviously impossible since I own every floor of the building (under several false names, of course). Upon opening my door, he shot at me. I was of course expecting this so I closed the door and readied my trusty RPG. I opened the door again and this time it was I who was doing the shooting. He fled (rather quickly) and unfortunately none of my shots connected. I pursued him through the maze of East Court but somehow he evaded me. Convinced that this wasn't possible, I lurked a toilet that was on the way out until the (innocent) occupant came out. Unfortunately, my conscience prevented me from shooting him.

Following the above attack, myself and a couple of other policemen (Lemming Hunter and another) went and knocked on The Guru's door. Sadly, he didn't fall for the same trick as he thought would work on me. Even though we took the precaution of getting a real name from a room near him. Didn't really expect it to work anyway.

[19:00pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101(Lachlan McLean) tried to poison Cambridge

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reports:

To the Minister of Umpire,

I must confess to having been a naughty boy. I will forever record this day as being the Day of the Mail-Merge Murders (even though I don't suspect anyone will actually die). All I want to say is that if you don't brush your teeth I will come and brush your doorhandle, and "Think of a letter, or fifty" (TM). Where are the police anyway? I think it might be time for a change of government to get more bobbies on the beat. Or change of Chief of Police anyway, which I would be more than happy to precipitate.

Yours ever,

The Rt. Hon. Lord Blood Baron Highlander the Brave of Honourable Death, Q.C., K.B.E. (Knight of the Blood Empire)

Due to the large number of letters sent out by Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 and due to wishing to preserve some players' anonymity, I'll publish all the failed attempts reports here, in no particular order.

Cambridge reports:

I wish to report an attempt on my life by the notorious Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101, who apparantly is aiming for a world record in most number of poisoned letters sent in one day. This homicidal manic must be stopped, and the police are doing a pretty shoddy job. I may have to put justice into my own hands on this matter. The thing that gave away the poisioned letter I recieved this afternoon was the fact that the glitter was visible on the back of the envelope. I have since incinerated it.

The man is quite clearly a puerile imbecile. I hope his children die of palsey and I spit in your eye, you scallywag!

Another Poisoned letter! These are getting really tedious. I checked my p-hole at 4 and there it was, just waiting for me! Of course I'm not stupid and opened it safely. It's from Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101. Another day and I'm still not dead!

Obviously poisoned, and it had appeared to have leaked. This made me dangerously furious as we have shared pigeon holes and although I couldn't see any bodies lying in the plodge I felt that my attacker had endangered my friends. I returned to my room and carefully opened the letter. My worst suspicions were confirmed however the letter was safely disposed of so I can hopefully guarantee no more than 5 more victims for Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101.

Having been forewarned by my friend of a "suspicious-looking" envelope in my pigeon-hole, I was especially careful with today's mail. Sure enough, there was a large white letter, with a pretty printed sticker on it and everything. That sort of thing makes you feel so important...

Nevertheless, taking no chances, I opened the letter while waiting in the queue for dinner, opening the flap carefully with a key then emptying out the contents. Sure enough, the letter was poisoned with some despicable glittery substance that would doubtless have proved fatal had I been less alert. Relieved by my near miss, I flisked open the letter itself with my key to discover that it had been sent by the despicable criminal Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 as part of a "world record-breaking attempt to posison fifty-one people in one go". This officer, fortunately for the world, is still very much alive.

A letter, very nicely packaged. In his hurry it would seem some glitter was left on the outside. It is cold though and gloves were useful. In a way I feel honoured to be a part of it, and now my bin is very sparkly. Survival wasn't hard. I also like to think that I was the one he hand-wrote '51' for in the text... awww...

Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 aka The Blood Baron tried to kill me earlier. Due to paranoia on my part I opened a strange letter with gloves. It was filled with glitter and a message saying what it was. Interestingly it also said that it was part of a mass poisoned mailing (51 letters) so watch out.

Today I received a poison letter from "Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 aka The Blood Baron" which claimed to be an attempt to break the world record for the number of poisoned letters sent in one day. Apparently 51 letters were sent, but it was pretty easy to avoid being poisoned, as although I was wearing gloves to open the letter, this was unnecessary because there was very little poison in the letter, and it was all stuck to the paper, rather than being loose and dangerous. I therefore survived and am considering returning the letter to its sender.

hey. that bastard Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 is trying to kill me with poison. i had a letter in my pigeonhole that felt particularly funy. i didn't open it but i notced that another fine policeman had one too so i tod him to get it and open his. anyway, i went to my supervision with this poison letter in my bag and didn't open it, cos it was blatantly a trap. it's still not open but tjg booth opened his in a controlled opening (protected from the poison) so i don't actually want to open mine. hmn, bastard. i'm so going to kill him. yass.

Just to confirm receipt of poison letter from Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101. I disposed of it safely.

PC Jade arrived home after a long trek to a dim and distant city, and heard rumours of poisoned letters being distributed.

"Hmm," Jade thought, "I feel left out."

Jade then realised that there had been something that might've been an envelope just inside the door, and went to check. Sure enough there was a white envelope with a computer printed label.

Gingerly Jade checked the outside, and picked it up carefully, pausing only to collect a knife and Tea Towel with which to disect it, and went into the Lab.

Within the envelope was enough GLITTER to poison 51 persons, that being the number of letters the author (one Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101) had sent out. Jade carefully carried the letter back out of the Lab with the Tea Towel and disposed of it in a manner that wouldn't endanger the other inhabitants of the house. Then Jade shook every last remenent of the poison off the Towel, and sponged up the remains off the Lab floor.

Since the poison kills instantly, Jade was then sure that she was OK, and returned to her business.

He stood with electric intensity before the communication array, the message-slot presenting him with a letter so deeply and guiltlessly innocent that an angelic smile was almost visible plastered across its papery face - whistling to itself an absent-minded tune. He plucked the offending article from its chamber and studied it for signs of foul-play. The word-processed label appeared, on first glance, to loudly declare the validity of the letter - but the type sat uneasily on the sticker, a little too near the edge for the masterful handiwork of the super-efficient drones that made up the Cambridge Bureaucracy Hive-Mind. It was more than enough to warrant suspicion, and he swept down to the lab for a brisk bout of chemical analysis.

The envelope had been laced with a sparkling metallic substance that was, the technicians explained, extremely if not decidedly toxic. Worse than this, however, was the horrific attempt at humour that they had found printed within a garbled parody of the record-breaking chain-letter that everyone feels the need to take part in at the age of seven and three-quarters - clearly this man was seriously ill. n agreement with this, the techs found the name of the sender printed cunningly at the letter's conclusion; it was from none other than that maniacal maniac Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 aka The Blood Baron - wanted across the Galaxy for his crimes of absurd evil.

Surviving this brush with a death most bland, our hero immediately formulated an elegant plan of simple revenge - but the news from the Tachyon-net that his new nemesis had already fallen to another's hand enflamed his temper with a violent rage, and he stormed noisily around the mansion for a while, looking for something to slam.

I'm still alive! Terminators are no good at sending poisoned letters, and besides, humans know how to spot poisoned letters, even if you stick the glitter onto the paper first, which is why I wore gloves when I opened yours! Stick to what you know how to do: kill civilian yankees and running from police! Yeah, you heard me: you're no cyborg, you're a disgraced assassin and a coward.

Yep. I got one too. The glitter on the *outside* of the envelope was just a teensy weensy giveaway, was was the grease which had soaked through the envelope.

Just received a 'Locky' tm poisoned letter. It was very convincing, but thanks to the warnings from other assassins I identified it and was able to safely neutralise it! Also, my door handle fell off. I can't help but wonder if this was the evil work of an assassin, maybe Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 poisoning it has caused it to ail and become sick? Damn you Lachlan McLean! If you weren't dead, my doorhandle would have it's revenge!!!!!!!

The librarians' noticeboard indicated that a large number of letters demanding "late return fees" had been sent out by Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 Consequently I was unsurprised to find a suspicious-looking white envelope in my pigeonhole.

Opening it carefully while wearing the gloves I usually reserve for handling ancient manuscripts, I noticed a number of flecks of purple glitter inside. I immediately resealed it and put it in the "archives".

Hi. Reporting an attempt on my life this morning: I recieved and oped with extreme caution a letter addressed to myself which turned out to be poisoned. It claimed to be part of a record attempt to send 51 poisoned letters in one day. Anyway i'm still alive, as none of the substance touched me, although one particle did get on my coat. it was removed safely.

hi, just to report that i too recieved a poisoned letter from the now deceased Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101. of course, knowing there were some going around i took suitable precautions (gloves) and spent some painstaking time cleaning the poison off my desk where it fell when the letter was opened. therefore i am not dead, so another failed attempt for the dead maniac.

Who was it who said, "Quality is better than quantity"?

I'm not going to write anything exciting about this, as this is probably poisoned letter number 52. I only bothered to check my pigeonhole today, having seen the reports on the website, and so expected correspondence from Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101. Safely disposed of, no innocents harmed (although I had to stop a dead player from intentionally touching the glitter just so he could show that the dead can't die).

I am proud and honoured to be a member of Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101's 51. I didn't actually handle the powder, although it would have made no diff to little ol' me cos I'm already dead. From what I've read, Lachlan McLean is also dead. Ah well, I'll get him in the afterlife.

As I was just crawling home into the soft a sweet arms of my beloved MCR bar (being already quite drunk from a boat club formal) I recognised a strange letter in my pigeon hole: No return address, and no Royal mail or College Stamp. I wanted to open it on my way to the bar already, but then I noticed, that walking and opening a letter at the same time was just too much for my already weakened equilibrium sense. So I walked into the bar and was in a second embraced by the "Don't open that"-screams of my drinking companions. Well, to cut a long story short, I opened the perfidiously glittered letter with leather gloves on and disposed of it afterwards.

Nasty fluffy bunny twied to poison us! Mean nasty bunny! But we's too smarty for them. Oh yes. We's much smarter. No silly little bunny kill us! No. With his nasty sparkly poison... we make them pay. Oh yes... we make them all pay!! Hehahahahheheehehahahehehhheeheehee!

Okay, okay.

I was sent a lame poisoned letter as part of the whole 'Mass Poisoning Attempt' thing.

Yet another rather crude poisoned letter crow-barred its way into my pigeonhole this morning. Fortunately I spotted that all was not well before I opened it. There was some non-descript gunge leaking from it and it rattled, so I'm guessing there was something in it. Dropped it straight in the recycling bin without opening - so I hope it wasn't from the people at the Readers' Digest Prize Draw...

I got one, it was pretty lame

lovely glitter tho

This afternoon I withdrew a letter from my pigeon hole. A very anonymous letter. A very anonymous, bumpy letter. A very anonymous letter, containing something that felt like sandpaper. After wondering why someone would mail me sandpaper, I decided to postpone opening this one. Later in the day, I decided to open the letter, and proceeded to do so with caution*. Lo and behold, out of the envelope came not sandpaper, not an emery board, but the most vile substance ever to be sent via the UMS... SPARKLY SILVER GLITTER!!! .. glued to the back of a letter which let me know that it'd been at least 5 days since i last checked my pigeon hole.. whoops. After sealing the binbag in which the poison lay, to protect innocent bedders from the unpleasant effects of Lachlan's poison.

I recieved a poisoned letter in the post today, which I disposed of using plastic bags over my hands. I did not touch any of the glitter, so I am still alive, and it was all cleared up so it posed no danger to anybody else.

These next two were received a good 3 weeks after sending!
Rather oddly, I'd one of Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101's Letters - dated 23 October! - in my pidgeonhole this morning. This might have bothered me if I'd not been killed eight days ago, or if I wasn't a social leper. Obviously, then, it didn't. Ooh, glitter! Shiny!"

Checking my pigeonhole today I came across an unexpected letter, official in appearance but somewhat granular in texture. Being currently slightly dead I gleefully ripped it open and bounced with joy at the sight of the pretty shiny glitter covering my fingers. It was indeed a letter from Cambridge's premier mail-merge murderer, Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101, who at the time I picked up the letter had been dead for three weeks, four days, twenty-two hours and twenty minutes.

I wonder what the current record for slowest delivery of a poisoned letter is?

[20:00pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 assassinated Ariane Standing (Ariane Standing)

Ariane Standing reports:

I recieved a poisoned letter today from the bloody baron(Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101), and I died (waa)

[20:50pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 assassinated Niall Taylor (cycad)

cycad reports:

Walking back to my college from Gardies with a friend and a pizza I was rudely prodded in the back. Turning to see who it was, a gentleman with a big grin asked if I was an assassin. I replied that I was, and asked what he'd actually done. He presented a small pen with 'kife' written on it in neat script. He looked vaguely familiar: I debated if I'd seen him before. The dead, however, are very bad at That Sort of Thing. I cursed myself for not noticing him before. Apparantly, being wanted gives him an excuse to go around killing random assassins and civilians. I however proceeded to the bar and partook of spirits.

The subsequent conversation with my friend:

[innocent]I slapped him in the face. Does that count as a judo chop?
[cycad] No, it doesn't.
[innocent] Well, can we go to Girton and kill him?
[cycad] No, we can't, we're dead.
[innocent] awwww.

[21:00pm] Buffalo Gill assassinated Catherine Harris (de Selby)

Buffalo Gill reports:

Successful (woohoo!) assassination attempt made on de Selby with a (glitter) hand grenade. I felt very treacherous murdering a friend, but I guess all is fair in love and assassination.

[21:30pm] Shot down in flames assassinated Lachlan McLean (Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101)

Shot down in flames reports:

The friendly hobbits hobbited home amidst the freezing winds below the starry sky, for they were hungry and wished for bed. And Dojo's. Not necessarily in that order. But lo, there was a silhuette of blackness, and the silhette was very tall, and begingered around the face.. aha, the embodiment of EVIL! himself sauntered menacingly along Trinity street!.. And so the hobbit and the shadow casually walked past each other in a *don't notice me, i am an innocent townsperson* manner. Nobody will now ever know why it was thought this might possibly work.. :-) Fractionally later the hobbit ran behind a passing van and shot the dastardly Lachlan McLean in the back. The people of Cambridge sleep a little safer...

[22:00pm] The Duke assassinated Adam Baird Fraser (The Guru)

The Duke reports:

As for the assassination of the wanted criminal, it's all in a day's work. Happened to be in the target's college, and enlisted the help of a bystander/old friend in getting the door open, using the old "do you want to come to a party" trick. One headshot and The Guru's troubles were over...

The Guru reports:

Hearing a friendly voice at the door, The Guru opens it wider than sense should permit. "Hi, we're going to a... *bang*" The Guru staggers from the unseen blow, and the friendly voice falters as he realises what his companion has done. The Guru has met his fate, to a policeman nonetheless - The Duke.

For his dedication and bravery, The Duke is promoted to an Agent.

Saturday, 25 October

[10:00am] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reached out from beyond the grave to kill Graham Thomson (I-Zombie)

At least, I presume it was Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 due to the 15:00 report...

[10:59am] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reached out from beyond the grave to kill Ashley Aarons (crazy monkey man)

crazy monkey man reports:

today, at approximately a while ago, going through my post, i found a letter. thinking myself popular, i paid no heed to the warning signs. as an assasin i should know better, but well, the letter had glitter inside. it occured to me my girlfriend coulkd have sent this to me. happily i read the letter till i discovered through my pain and the words, that in fact i had been poisoned. the glitter was in fact contact poison. i frantically called to the porters for an anicdote. thye laughed at me as i slowly crawled away, crying out in pain, till i saw the light and the light was death.

the assasin who got me was none other than the notorious blood baron, Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101.

[12:30pm] Fraggin' Aardvark made an attempt on JJ Wilks

Fraggin' Aardvark reports:

Delightful day for depositing devilishly deadly deceitful dispatches! These two targets tempt terrible terminations, should they shake or show shady substances, seemingly simple statements. Hoping half, or the whole have helpful happenings...!

JJ Wilks reports:

As I retrieved my mail this morning, I noticed an entirely unsuspicious letter in my pigeonhole. so, I opened it with the ususal measures, and at this point (by which time no sensible player or even innocent could possibly have been killed), two lines of the letter were visible:
"If you are reading this, there are 3 possibilities:
(1) You are already dead."
So with even more care I extracted the letter. It appears that it had been gently sprinkled with a black substance which on closer attention seemed to be pepper! I'm not sure; perhaps I would have been killed if I made a regular habit of eating my mail? Even more interesting was the disclaimer: "This is a letter for the mock assassination game run by the Cambridge University Assassins' Guild. The substance contained within is [insert name of substance] and is completely harmless. Queries should be addressed to this term's Umpire, Ric Brackenbury of Selwyn College, to rab71@cam.ac.uk" I wonder how many times people have been poisoned by [insert name of substance]? At least now I know that it's a black powder that has an appearance remarkably resembling pepper! How bizzarre...

[insert name of substance] can be pretty lethal, you know...

[15:00pm] The Soul Dealer mutilated the corpse of Graham Thomson (I-Zombie)

The Soul Dealer reports:

After leaving my targets for a weak in order to give them a false sense of security, I decided to pay a visit to a certain Mr I-Zombie Locating his lair was of little difficulty for one as cunning as The Soul Dealer, and gaining access to it was also fairly simple due to my "lost property" story. All seemed to be going exquisitely, until after I shot him the corpse revealed he had been dead since this morning by virtue of a poisoned letter. Curses. The next person on my list shall not escape so painlessly!

[15:00pm] hobart made an attempt on Whoops

hobart reports:

Whoops is now my new nemesis. He will die. Oh yes, Whoops, your days are numbered. Papa smurf accompanied me to Whoops's residence, and we waited in his staircase. And we waited. And we waited some more. We waited a sum total of about two and a half hours. During that time, we discussed many important world issues, including abortion and the relative merits of squash and raquetball. Then we waited some more. Where was this Whoops? Did he really exist?

Eventually, some man came by Whoops's door. He lingered there for a while, then knocked on his door. Then (using the oldest trick in the book), he approaced us (with the fear in his eyes), and asked us if we knew where Whoops was. As I politely answered no, Papa Smurf was blowing up beside me whispering things like "shoot the bastard!" and, "its him you shmuck". The man then left, and I realized I had been tricked. You are the worst scum of the earth Whoops, and you will be mine. Watch your back.

[15:20pm] The Duke made an attempt on Mean Mr. Mustard

The Duke reports:

It is my severe displeasure to announce the failure of a rather half-assed attempt on the life of Mean Mr. Mustard at around 15.20 today. Armed with my trusty RBG, I happened to be passing the college when I remembered there was a wanted criminal within. I strolled up to his room unchallenged and could hear the sounds of music emanating from within; clearly the target was in residence. I also spotted that he had no spyhole, which meant I would have to rely on verbal bluff to get him to open the door. Considering my limited konwledge of the target this would be no mean feat. The only scrap of evidence I had available was a large sign on his door proclaiming "LUKE! ENTREZ!". While unusual to have a friend with the same name, it would be even more bizarre to have a sign inviting oneself to enter one's own room. A potential false identity was born.

I knocked, and heard the sounds from within mute.

"Who is it?" came the predictable, but disappointing reply. Clearly my target was no fool.

"It's Luke," I tried.



"Sorry mate, I don't know any Lukes." So the message *was* for himself. What a strange man.

"You're not from the Assassins, by any chance, are you?"

An unimaginative "the who?" was the best I could come up with under the circumstances.

"That's what I thought," said the voice.

Mumbling in disappointment, I decided not to bother with lurking outside the door, and departed down the staircase, determined to make a better effort, with proper back-up, next time.

While on the subject, I also had a crack at "You have no chance to survive, make your time!" but he was either out or too sensible to open the door to someone he didn't know.

[15:30pm] Ross Edmondson assassinated his little brother

Ross Edmondson reports:

It was my little brother and he was bearing weapons! I despatched him with 6 bands to the stomach. Sad, but nescessary.

[16:01pm] Papa Smurf assassinated the wrong Jenny

Papa Smurf reports:

I had tracked down my first target, Jenny Gardner, to her staircase and approached silently to her room. There it was, quiet and peaseful, directly besides the kitchen. I had an ingenious plan already how to fool her and so I just knocked on her door and waited. Instantaneously a girl came out of the kitchen and asked "Yes?". So I changed my plan to being not sooooo subtle anymore and just asked her: "Are you Jenny?" She didn't even finish her "Yes, I am" fully, but was already shot directly into the heart and died with an unexpectedly surprised look on her face, stammering her last, direful words " I think you got the wrong Jenny..." So it turned out, there were TWO Jennies living directly next to each other, and I had shot the wrong one....

Papa Smurf got very unlucky, however the fact remains that an innocent was killed. So Jochen Smolka goes wanted. However as they had decent reason to assume the wrong Jenny was the correct target, they will be redeemed for killing a legal target and a criminal, or 3 legal targets. Jenny Gardner counts.

[16:30pm] Papa Smurf assassinated Jenny Gardner (J_J Wilks)

Papa Smurf reports:

So having already shot one of the two Jennies I didn't want to miss the chance of getting the other one, as well. And at least here I was fortunate and didn't have to wait for more than half an hour until the right J_J Wilks came home, went into her room for a short time and then left for the toilet. I waited in front of that and as she came out she had to suffer all my hatred about her living next to another Jenny! I shot her, before she could even open her bag, where from she tried to draw a weapon. She died silently for all her wicked deeds (like living next to...ah, you know), but her death didn't make Innocent Jenny alive again....

J_J Wilks reports:

Having not received any assassination attempts on me all week (except a pathetic poison letter), i had been quite looking forward to someone actually trying to kill me, but hadn't quite wanted it to be when I was hurrying for a supervision (at 3.30 today). These people were hanging around suspiciously down my corridor, but I had no time to barricade myself in my room to see if they went away. I was therefore shot by a watergun as I left the bathroom, and so turned up to my supervision drenched and dead. Unfortunately I didn't really have time to get the assassins names, which would make the task of avenging my death much easier. But be warned, whoever you are, I know what you look like and my alternate personalities will get you! mwhahaha...!!!

[17:00pm] Edward Allcutt assassinated Luke Donnan (Mean Mr. Mustard)

Edward Allcutt reports:

It just doesn't wash, having members of ones own college wanted. Seeing Mean Mr. Mustard outside hall this afternoon I quietly and without any fuss rectified this embarrasing situation.

A concerned townsperson.

Mean Mr. Mustard reports:

Argh! I'm dead! Got assassinated in the dinner queue at college by Edward Allcutt with a pistol; as soon as he'd gone some other guy rushed up to me and stabbed me to death. It was a miracle I made it into the kitchen without someone throwing a fridge onto my head, or something.

Sunday, 26 October

[14:00pm] Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 reached out from beyond the grave to kill Stefano Debolini (You have no chance to survive, make your time!)

You have no chance to survive, make your time! reports:

Got killed by a (sparkly) poisoned letter earlier (Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 - very vicious, and very sneaky, and very poisonous),

[18:00pm] The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory assassinated Philip Charles (Mr Ixtapolapaketle)

Mr Ixtapolapaketle reports:

I returned to my room to find a beautiful bottle of explosive attached to my door. Whilst attempting to defuse it, so that I could retrieve the invitation left by The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory to their amazing party, I accidentally triggered it, and regret to inform all who it may concern that I will be unable to attend the party due to having been reduced to my molecular components by their fiendish, yet doubtless immensely thoughtful gift.

The space aliens Oglethorpe and Emory reports:

Oglethorpe: Ve are just hearing of a successful invitation!
Oglethorpe: Ve are now vaiting for ze attached rematerialiser to take effect.
Emory: Dude, I thought you totally asked for a dematerialiser.
Oglethorpe: (checks screen, spots crater) Damn it Emory, everyvhere you go someone dies or gets hurt. You and your statically charged body, it voz alvays going to be like zis, but Mutter still vouldn't let me melt you!
Emory: (self-pity) Everybody hates me b- because they die or get hurt.
Emory: But Squirly doesn't hate me - he loves me!
Emory: Where is my buddy Squirly?
Oglethorpe: (producing corpse, beating it repeatedly on the ground) Oh, here he is. I found him face up in ze escape pod after your last little hug.
Emory: (taking the corpse) Squirly, no.
Emory: Squirly...
Emory: Squirly!
Oglethorpe: Yah, I think you'd better stop hugging him now; he's starting to smoke.
Emory: (still holding the blackening corpse) No!!

[19:00pm] Fraggin' Aardvark made an attempt on The Minion of "You've just lost the game"

Fraggin' Aardvark reports:

Delightful day for depositing devilishly deadly deceitful dispatches! These two targets tempt terrible terminations, should they shake or show shady substances, seemingly simple statements. Hoping half, or the whole have helpful happenings...!

The Minion of "You've just lost the game" reports:

Miss S. G. Slater c/o Ric Brackenbury
Cambridge Assassins Guild

Enc: (0) No poison.
Re: Your letter

Dear A. S. Sassin,

I am much distressed that work seems to haven driven you to the fearsome acts of sending letters, and suggest that you use the oppurtunies avaliable with us at the Ministry of Minions(hereafter referred to as the MoM), including our "one shot cures all" drop by clinics, the "CPS soak down" quick death sessions, not forgetting the "Bombs'R'Us" supply closet, for all your shopping needs.

It has probably come to your attention by this point in the letter that the one you sent me hasn't worked.. Well, put quite simply, I fail to see how this letter could have "utterly annihilate"-ed me from "the face of the planet", as poison doesn't tend to have this effect, ubnless it is the lesser-common exploding poison, which is really mis-named as it has only been seen once to my knowledge, see [1]. As you may not be aware, it is standard procedure in the MoM to handle all mail with care, espcially in wake of the Cyberdyne Systems Model T-101 incident. As such we take great care, as it was indicated you expected in your letter, to remove things from our mail box with remote extraction equimpent and then throw it across the room a few times to ensure that if it was going to explode it would have done, before carefully placing it all in a moved the mail to our mail extraction room we use a variety of devices to open the mail from a safe distance, before reading it. Anyhow, before we let it touch our "bloody" hands, (well not really bloody, more a figure of speech really. They're not really bloody.) we first ensure that it is completll safe, or in the case of letters like your own, ensure it doesn't get touched, placed on food preperation surfcaes, work, etc. We then ensure that you are on the list to meet your fate at our (not so bloody) hands, or possibly at the end of one of our RBGs, RPGs, CPSs, assorted bombs, poison letters, letter bombs, fluffy animals, or even killer ninja attack badgers. Did I mention the badgers?

Anyhow, here are a few tips for you:

So, with that in mind this is where I write enough text to make anyone whos getting bored or reading the news page even more bored. Here at the ministry we do not use the word "Fluff" to fill letters as seems to be your standard practice, instead we use "Badgers", or if we are in grace period, "game", though we tend to prefer badgers. Badgers are fun. Did I mention the Killer Ninja Attack Badgers? Oh yes, I did. Anyhow, this leaves me with the oppurtunity to leave you with a few short words of wisdom:

"The first rule of the game is that there are three rules to the game and that once you know all them you are playing the game."

I trust it is not neccessary to complete the proverb? Anyhow, I look forward to you future correspondence.

Your well named,

The Minion of "You've just lost the game".
Head of complaints at the MoM

PS: Please note that its traditional to replace [insert name of substance] with the actual substance used. Assuming you used one. However the entry requirements for the MoM are not that high, so perhaps you'd like to ask for an application form. These are available from me, please either come and collect them from my room, or failing that please email our Head of recruiting: rab71@cam.ac.uk. We currently have vacancies in the following departments:

Sadly there are no vacancies in the Game dept, pending further casualties.

[19:30pm] Papa Smurf mutilated the corpse of Stefano Debolini (You have no chance to survive, make your time!)

Papa Smurf reports:

I hid together with an assassins companion in the kitchen of You have no chance to survive, make your time!. After a while we heard someone approaching, jumped out of the room, ready to shoot him. It turned out, that it was only a police man, namely Radoslav Nespor, known as "Constable Martini, shaken not stirred". He didn't know I was wanted and was after You have no chance to survive, make your time!, as well, so we waited together. After a while, the other assassin had to leave and so it was only Constable Martini and me who watched You have no chance to survive, make your time! leaving his room a few minutes later. I shot him with at least 10 bullets, but unfortunately it turned out that it was only his dead body walking around, because he had died from a poisoned letter a few hours before.

I set killing You have no chance to survive, make your time! as a redemption condition for Papa Smurf, but I believe Papa Smurf would have got the kill had You have no chance to survive, make your time! been alive, so I have decided to redeem Papa Smurf.

You have no chance to survive, make your time! reports:

Then later on Papa Smurf + Martini, shaken not stirred turned up trying to kill me and after being killed yet again I explained what had happened we had a few beers, and went our separate ways.

Martini, shaken not stirred reports:

Following the call of duty, and my natural killer instinct, I approached You have no chance to survive, make your time!, the infamous criminal's, door. As I peaked around the corner, however, the sound of whispers came to my ears. Weighing the gravity of the situation, I decided to back off and lure out my enemy. But lo! two assassins emerged from the door, and neither was Stefano Debolini. Only the cold precision of years of experience prevented the unnecessary blood-shed. Two assassins, also intent to kill my target emerged under a no-kill agreement. And so we sat down to a coucil, and decided to work together. And it was not long (but longer than one of my fellow killers was willing to wait) before You have no chance to survive, make your time! came out of his room. "To get some milk for my cereal," was his excuse, but he got no further than the kitchen, where in shear surprise, he fell to his feet under two simultaneous shots from the darkness of the stove. (Alas, we later found that he was already poisoned earlier today, but his ghost had not reported it yet.)

[21:45pm] The Duke mutilated the corpse of Stefano Debolini (You have no chance to survive, make your time!)

The Duke reports:

At 21.45 I strolled, unchallenged, into Churchill, with the intention of wiping out one if not both of the targets on the wanted list. I went for You have no chance to survive, make your time! first, since I knew where his room was. Using the subtle strategy of knocking on the door and hiding round the corner, I waited expectantly.

The door opened, and with a cry of trimph I leapt inside, shooting the unfortunate individual seated at his computer twice with my RBG. Strangely, my bullets seemed to have no effect, and only his cries of "I'm dead!" prevented me from firing any more. It later transpired that he had been killed earlier in the day, but clearly the memo from police HQ had failed to reach me in time. Damn. At least he gave me a beer, which was generous, considering that I had been trying to kill him, although it was only Carling. My mission aborted, I drank the beer and proceeded home, muttering about wasting time.

The Duke

You have no chance to survive, make your time! reports:

As it happens, after a bit of a banter I got back to my room and was assasinated yet again! By someone from Peterhouse college who's name i've forgotten, we had a laugh and yet more beer and that was the end of the nights assassins festivities.

[23:05pm] love-rat made an attempt on Pokey the Penguin

Pokey the Penguin reports:

Pokey the Penguin in:

The Hands Are Not Clean

Pokey: I have a new book!

Pokey: It is an obsessive compulsive choose-your-adventure book!

Pokey: It says "you are in a bathroom. To wash your hands, turn to page 2."

Pokey: "To wash your hands again, reread page 2." Pokey: I must get them clean!

Pokey: "To check if your car is locked, turn to page 5."

Pokey: But my hands are not clean!!!

Pokey: "You are having an anxiety attack. Count to ten and read this page again."

Pokey: One... two...

* Pokey throws the book into the arctic ocean

Pokey: I hate my life!

Little Girl: Pokey what were on the other fifty pages?

Pokey: PORN

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