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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 18, 2012 11:41:30 GMT -5
Might as well start with Sem, the man of the hour. Click the spoiler below to reread the story he posted in this topic: It's technically Friday November 24th, 2006. My mother is on her knees, the upper half of her body leaning against the bed, and her head face-down on the sheets. Her hands are sprawled in front of her, and she's not breathing. My mother is not breathing.
It's technically the morning after Thanksgiving, but I haven't slept. My father is talking to a woman over speakerphone, informing her that he has already done everything she's asked. He says this isn't his first time on a 911 phone call. I'm trying not to cry, and the only thing coming out of my lips are a few whispered cries to god. I'm ushered out of the room, wrapped in a scratchy green blanket and a T-shirt from a college I've never been to. I'm sat down in my room, and I talk about video games with James, one of my dad's students, for what feels like forever. I hear men come into the house, a few shouted commands, and a slurry of hushed voices soon after. My father knocks on my door, and I walk outside to talk to him. The talk only lasts a few seconds because I can't stand up anymore after the first few words.
It's Friday, November 24th 2006. I wake up from one dream, but not the dream I want to wake up from. Family friends pour in from all over the country all morning and cry with us. My dad and I have pecan pie for breakfast. We feel like we've earned it. I've never felt as empty as that day.
It's Wednesday, November 29th 2006. I ask my father if he's ready. He says he'll never be ready for this. I stand up from the funeral pew, and I give my mother's eulogy. I talk about her life, her personality, and her effect on me. I'm strong for my mother, my father, and my family. I sit down and cry. I hope that no one my age ever has to do what I just did. The world should not be so cruel to those so young. And now please click the following spoiler to see the story he originally PMed me. When I was ten my grandmother was taken to the hospital. She had been fighting cancer for a while now but I didn't know how bad it had gotten. I was taken to my aunt and uncle's house and slept there for the night. In the morning I was told that she had passed away during the night. I didn't much respond and I went to school, and it wasn't until I got home that day that I broke down.Oh shit. This is gonna be a really fucking sad post, isn't it. Well, that's okay for Team Radicalness, as no one thought Sem was telling the truth. Moving on... Below is Testbug's public story. When I was in around the 5th grade, I was still very much in contact with my grandmother. She was living with my parents and me, and we were taking very good care of her. She was fighting cancer, and had been for a while, but I never really knew how bad it had been. One night, I was taken to my aunt and uncle's house, and I spent the night there. When I woke up, they very solemnly informed me, over breakfast, that my grandmother had passed away in the night. I didn't know what to do or say, so I went to school like nothing had happened, and tried to move on. When I got home, I just completely broke down and sobbed. Below is the story he originally PMed me. It's technically Friday November 24th, 2006. My mother is on her knees, the upper half of her body leaning against the bed, and her head face-down on the sheets. Her hands are sprawled in front of her, and she's not breathing. My mother is not breathing.
It's technically the morning after Thanksgiving, but I haven't slept. My father is talking to a woman over speakerphone, informing her that he has already done everything she's asked. He says this isn't his first time on a 911 phone call. I'm trying not to cry, and the only thing coming out of my lips are a few whispered cries to god. I'm ushered out of the room, wrapped in a scratchy green blanket and a T-shirt from a college I've never been to. I'm sat down in my room, and I talk about video games with James, one of my dad's students, for what feels like forever. I hear men come into the house, a few shouted commands, and a slurry of hushed voices soon after. My father knocks on my door, and I walk outside to talk to him. The talk only lasts a few seconds because I can't stand up anymore after the first few words.
It's Friday, November 24th 2006. I wake up from one dream, but not the dream I want to wake up from. Family friends pour in from all over the country all morning and cry with us. My dad and I have pecan pie for breakfast. We feel like we've earned it. I've never felt as empty as that day.
It's Wednesday, November 29th 2006. I ask my father if he's ready. He says he'll never be ready for this. I stand up from the funeral pew, and I give my mother's eulogy. I talk about her life, her personality, and her effect on me. I'm strong for my mother, my father, and my family. I sit down and cry. I hope that no 12-year-old boys ever have to do what I just did. The world should not be so cruel to those so young. Oh SHIT. Oh my god. Okay. Keep it together, Pohatu. Keep. it. together. Wait, since Sem and Testbug switched stories, that must mean... Below is Elliot's public story. So I'd just got back from a show, and the person I was seeing at the time was coming over to where I live afterwards so we could all go out and party somewhere. A fairly normal night at the time, but people were setting off fireworks around the city and in the local park, and there was a fair ground so we went to that. After going on a few rides, we went for a walk and let the rest of my friends go to the party and said we'd meet up with them later. We walked to the field near where I lived and sat on the bench, watching the fireworks.
I'd been seeing this person for a while, but we weren't official yet. We sat there for about half an hour, just chatting and having a bit of a laugh. Then they took my hand and said, "I've been thinking about it for a while, and I'd like it if you were my boyfriend." I'd been waiting for a while to hear that, so I immediately said I'd like that too. We kissed, and it was like the first time all over again. Slow and sweet and just nice. We got up and went to find our friends, who were out in the city at this point, and everyone could tell without us actually saying anything because we both had these really genuine smiles on our faces for the rest of the night. Below is the story he originally PMed me. So I'd just got back from a show, and the person I was seeing at the time was coming over to where I live afterwards so we could all go out and party somewhere. A fairly normal night at the time, but people were setting off fireworks around the city and in the local park, and there was a fair ground so we went to that. After going on a few rides, we went for a walk and let the rest of my friends go to the party and said we'd meet up with them later. We walked to the field near where I lived and sat on the bench, watching the fireworks.
I'd been seeing this person for a while, but we weren't official yet. We sat there for about half an hour, just chatting and having a bit of a laugh. Then they took my hand and said, "I've been thinking about it for a while, and I'd like it if you were my boyfriend." I'd been waiting for a while to hear that, so I immediately said I'd like that too. We kissed, and it was like the first time all over again. Slow and sweet and just nice. We got up and went to find our friends, who were out in the city at this point, and everyone could tell without us actually saying anything because we both had these really genuine smiles on our faces for the rest of the night.Whew! Hahaha! Thank god! I thought these were all gonna be tearjerkers. Haha(*sniffle*)haha! I feel so much better now. Man... And Team Radicalness must be feeling pretty good, too. By correctly guessing Elliot as the opposing team's truth-teller, they aced the challenge! 16 EP are guaranteed to go into the pot. But what about Team Sloth? Their performance will determine whether an additional 16 EP is added, or whether Ninety gets an exemption...
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 18, 2012 11:42:06 GMT -5
Let's take Biscuit next. Here's his public story. We have a long-standing tradition of celebrating New Year's at the beach. The friends who supplied the cabin lived a reasonable ten or so minute walk from the jetty we would eventually walk to so we could watch the fireworks at midnight. Now this was many years ago, well before Traci, and I was head-over-heels for this girl Michelle. Naturally, we were not meant for each other, and so we fought. A lot. And on this particular New Year's, we had had one such quarrel, and Michelle decided she would down half of a handle of Jagermeister all by her lonesome, because, y'know, fuck the world. Knowing she would be drunk as fuck on this evening I had chosen to avoid her for the better portion of the night. She has this unique flair for belligerence.
Anyway!
Up until just before the fireworks had started, I'd done a pretty good job of being at least 100 feet away from her sloppy drunk ass, but finally her closer friends (who were my friends first, goddammit) were finally forced to come and find me because at that point she had thrown herself onto the beach, kicked her shoes off and hurled them at passers-by, and was demanding to speak to me even though she had lost the ability to form complete sentences. And also to stand. So for the duration of the fireworks I was not permitted to look away but rather was required to watch as she flailed about in the sand making a mess of herself, after which I had the great joy of carrying her sorry ass the mile or so back to my friends' house. I felt bad for the friend who had started crying out of guilt and pity. Sometimes I wonder if I should have felt the same, but the only emotion I can remember experiencing was blinding fury. I was angry at her for making me carry her, for making me deal with her shit, and for making those closest to us suffer on behalf of what should have been our private affairs. When my mother had come to pick me up, she spoke to her kindly and gently while I sat in the car and marinated in my own rage, not caring that she would spend the rest of the night on the friends' front lawn with a bucket and a blanket. And here's the story he originally PMed me. When I was 7, we bought two dogs from some family friends. One went to my sister, who was already off at college, and the other was mine. That dog and I were inseparable; he was my very best friend. My dad helped me get him housebroken, and then helped me train him the basic commands, and showed me how to work him under the gun (this was back when we still hunted ducks, so he grew up as a bird dog). Every day I went outside and played with him. Every day he would stand by the back door and bark when he heard my truck pull into the driveway, knowing that soon I'd be coming out to toss the ball or wrestle with him.
Two months ago he died. He was seventeen - an ancient age for his breed - and showing it. He had contracted a severe sinus infection that eventually spread to his lungs and crippled him so badly that it took him nearly ten full seconds to draw a breath into his suffocated airways. I made the decision to put him down. I took him to the vet and I stood there, with my hand on his head, scratching behind his ear as they injected that pale blue serum into his veins. I didn't cry, not then. I signed the papers, paid my money, and drove home. For hours and hours I wondered why the tears wouldn't come. I felt grief, certainly. It tore me apart, physically and emotionally. But I couldn't cry. And soon, I was better. It was sad, but I had gotten over it.
And then his ashes came. Our vet delivered them to our house (small town, family friends, yada yada). And I lost it. Right there in the front yard, right in front of her, as she was offering this little black box to me, this tiny little keepsake full of the grey stuff that used to be my best friend. I couldn't bear it. Everything I had bottled up since that morning I wrapped him in my old baby blanket and carried him out to the truck for his last ride, it all came rushing out at once. It was the saddest I've ever been in my life.Oh come on!!!!! Well, bad news for Team Sloth. That wasn't Ninety's story... Let's just check. Below is Ninety's public story. I am sitting in my truck. It's about twenty minutes until curtains for the two-man show I'm doing with my best friend and we sold out the theater. My ex that I still have feelings for just sent me a text message saying she's looking forward to seeing the show and seeing me. I can't stop crying. I rock myself back and forth as people file their way past me into the theater. No one pays me any mind. Curtains are soon. I get out of the truck and go in through the cast and crew entrance. Everyone looks nervous and tell me they were worried I wasn't going to show and what's wrong and where am I going.
I'm going to the bathroom. I sit in the stall and continue sobbing. One of my friends comes in and starts to wash his hands and makes a joke because he thinks I'm actually using the toilet. Then he hears me crying. I open the stall door and go into the green room and sit on the couch. There are only a few people here now; everyone else has gone to prepare for the show. More are leaving because I'm crying and they're not sure what to do. My friend sits next to me and I cry into his shoulder and tell him that I can't do this anymore I just can't do it again. He tells me not to be nervous that I've done this play five times before and that I can do it again. I tell him it's not the play it's her I can't do it to her again I can't put her through it again. He asks me who she is.
I have to leave. I have to go somewhere and be alone. I can't see people right now. I can't see her. I can't see anyone. I get out of the theater and throw my cell phone in my friend's Jeep and drive away. The show is canceled. I am still crying. Below is the story he originally PMed me. I am sitting in my truck. It's about twenty minutes until curtains for the two-man show I'm doing with my best friend and we sold out the theater. My ex that I still have feelings for just sent me a text message saying she's looking forward to seeing the show and seeing me. I can't stop crying. I rock myself back and forth as people file their way past me into the theater. No one pays me any mind. Curtains are soon. I get out of the truck and go in through the cast and crew entrance. Everyone looks nervous and tell me they were worried I wasn't going to show and what's wrong and where am I going.
I'm going to the bathroom. I sit in the stall and continue sobbing. One of my friends comes in and starts to wash his hands and makes a joke because he thinks I'm actually using the toilet. Then he hears me crying. I open the stall door and go into the green room and sit on the couch. There are only a few people here now; everyone else has gone to prepare for the show. More are leaving because I'm crying and they're not sure what to do. My friend sits next to me and I cry into his shoulder and tell him that I can't do this anymore I just can't do it again. He tells me not to be nervous that I've done this play five times before and that I can do it again. I tell him it's not the play it's her I can't do it to her again I can't put her through it again. He asks me who she is.
I have to leave. I have to go somewhere and be alone. I can't see people right now. I can't see her. I can't see anyone. I get out of the theater and throw my cell phone in my friend's Jeep and drive away. The show is canceled. I am still crying.Guys. Guys. You -- *sniff* -- you can't do this to me. This is NOT OKAY. I said "any emotion". Any emotion! Not just grief, grief, grief, and dope times with Elliot!! Worse, those two stories look suspiciously like the very same story. Can it be true?? Below is Belle's public story. When I was younger, my family bought two dogs from some old friends. One went to my cousin, who was already off at college, and the other was mine. That dog and I were inseparable; he was my dearest friend. My dad helped me get him housebroken, train him the basic commands, and showed me how to work him under the gun (this was before everyone got caught up in school and we still went shooting with our neighbors down the road - they've actually got a deer sanctuary these days instead). Every afternoon I would go outside to play with him, and every day he would wait at the front door regardless of the weather, waiting for my brothers and I to get home from school.
At the beginning of last year, he passed away. He was thirteen, a decent age for a lab, and was beginning to show it. He had contracted a severe sinus infection that eventually spread to his lungs, which had crippled him so badly that it took him almost a full ten seconds just to inhale. He hadn't been living with us since we were forced to leave him here in the country once we moved away, but the family we had left him with let me make the decision to put him down. I took him to the vet and just... Stood there, holding his head, scratching behind his ear as they injected the pale blue serum into his veins. I didn't cry, not then. I signed the papers, paid the money, and drove home. For hours and hours I wondered why the tears wouldn't come. I felt grief, absolutely. It tore me apart, physically and emotionally. But I couldn't cry, as with most other instances I've felt grief - usually I pass it off as having evolved past having tear ducts. But, eventually I was better. It was still sad, but I had gotten over it.
Then his ashes came. Our vet delivered them to our house (tiny town, family friends, the woman's daughter was actually an old friend of mine). I just lost it. Right there in the front yard, right in front of her, as she was offering this little black box to me, this tiny little keepsake full of the grey stuff that used to be my best friend. I couldn't bear it. Everything I had bottled up since the morning I'd met the family, wrapped him in my old baby blanket, and carried him out to Mr. Weston's truck for his last ride, it all came rushing out at once. It was the most distraught I've ever been in my life. Below is the story she originally PMed me. The only one that comes to mind that involves any great deal of overwhelming emotion is actually not a happy story - I'm pretty sure it's also the only time I've ever been really angry with anyone or anything, and furious at that. This was, what, thhhhhhhree years ago now? For the sake of the story we'll call the antagonist TJ. The last New Year's I spent in Australia was at a friend's house, with the crazy timezones and the pool-times in winter and celebrating the new year on the beach and what have you. She lived a reasonable ten or so minute walk from the jetty we would eventually walk to so we could watch the fireworks at midnight, but before we would do that, TJ decided he would down half of a handle of Jagermeister on his lonesome. Knowing he would be drunk as fuck on this evening I had chosen to avoid him for the better portion of the night - we had recently parted ways, you see. And by recently I mean a few months prior. Anyway! Up until just before the fireworks had started, I'd done a pretty good job of being at least 100 feet away from his sloppy drunk ass, but finally his closer friends (who were my friends first, goddammit) were finally forced to come and find me because at that point he had thrown himself onto the beach, kicked his shoes off and hurled them at passers-by, and was demanding to speak to me even though he had lost the ability to form complete sentences. And also to stand. So for the duration of the fireworks I was not permitted to look away but rather was required to watch as he flailed about in the sand making a mess of himself, after which I had the great joy of carrying his sorry ass the mile or so back to the friend's house. I felt bad for the friend who had started crying out of guilt and pity. Sometimes I wonder if I should have felt the same, but the only emotion I can remember experiencing was blinding fury. I was angry at him for making me carry him, for making me deal with his shit, and for making those closest to us suffer on behalf of what should have been our private affairs. When my mother had come to pick me up, she spoke to him kindly and gently while I sat in the car and marinated in my own rage, not caring that he would spend the rest of the night on the friend's front lawn with a bucket and a blanket.God... God damn it you guys. God damn... *sniff* God damn it.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 18, 2012 11:42:42 GMT -5
Well, that's that. Team Radicalness could spy the truth-teller in the other group's midst, but Team Sloth could not. Despite shaming their opponents by rallying all three of the group's members to vote in time, Team Sloth lost out.
Who's to blame for this foulup? Well, it's hard for me to speculate, since this challenge privileged behind-the-scenes communication so extensively. But I can make a few guesses. To start with the most obvious ones, as the players who actually voted wrong, Sem and Testbug look mightily suspicious. If one of them were the Mole, it would have been all too easy for him to trick the other one into voting the wrong way, ensuring Team Sloth's downfall and keeping 16 EP out of the pot. Or are they simply poor judges of character? My evidence tells me that Team Sloth wasn't quite as tightly coordinated as Team Radicalness in this challenge; maybe Testbug and Sem just took individual swings at the plate and struck out.
As the only member of Team Sloth who voted correctly, Elliot would seem to be above suspicion. But who's to say he didn't want it to turn out just this way? Suppose he convinced Sem and Testbug to vote for Belle, then switched his own vote to the correct target, Ninety. Steers the team toward failure and Elliot gets to look like he was just defecting to make a grab at the exemption. Too complex? Well, there must be some reason why Elliot's name keeps coming up whenever there's an exemption on the table...
Of course, a truly great Mole would extend their influence to the other team as well as their own. On that merit, Belle -- the only player to fool anyone with their story! -- deserves consideration. Is she just that good of a raconteur? We know how chummy she and Testbug are; it's perfectly plausible they might have discussed the game externally during this challenge, despite being on opposite teams. What if Belle were to just kinda gently nudge Testbug in the direction of picking her as the truth-teller, leading to Team Sloth's defeat and the loss of 16 EP? Granted, she herself voted for the correct truth-teller on her own end, Elliot. Might mean she's innocent, after all. Or it might mean she knew better than to try and lead the Texans astray.
Biscuit? That furtive peek in and out at around twenty minutes past midnight (my time) could be meaningful. Was he deliberately avoiding the challenge until the deadline was past? And what about Ninety? Well, I've got a lot to say about him, but that's for the final post in this bonanza.
In the meantime, you've earned another 16 EP, while the other 16 EP goes into the Mole's pocket. As Testbug would say, a truly fair outcome.
THE TEAM POT: 263 EP THE MOLE'S POCKET: 161 EP
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 18, 2012 11:45:57 GMT -5
TRANSPARENT COPY-PASTING BEGINS NOW!
Here's the thing. Ninety's got an exemption now. He's safely through to episode six. Now, the boring thing to do would be to say that since he's exempt, he obviously will not sit the quiz at the end of this episode, boom end of story. Dull.
But let's not forget, you guys have a wager going with the Mole. You have to surpass 24% on the next quiz, or else you lose... well, everything you just made and then some, to say the least. And that raises a rather fascinating possibility which I'm going to extend to you all: Do you want Ninety to take the quiz anyway? If you decide yes, then he will take the quiz just as if he had no exemption; he will still be immune to execution, but his answers will be factored into the team's score like everyone else's.
Think carefully about this. There are a lot of things to consider. Suppose Ninety is on to the Mole's identity. Hell, given the 24% success rate so far, he might just be the only contestant who's on the right track. If that's true, then obviously the team would benefit from including his quiz answers in the calculation. And why shouldn't it be true? After all, he's made it this far... but then again, so have the rest of you, and (spoiler alert) people have been going after various suspects thus far. So it's equally possible that Ninety's just blundered his way to this point and his Mole suspicions are way off base. Voting to include him in the quiz would then be a very risky proposal, of course.
And let's just ride this train of thought all the way to the next station. What if Ninety is, himself, the Mole? If that were true, then voting to include him on the quiz means that the Mole would be taking the quiz for the first and only time in the game. Think about that one for a minute. "Oh, well," you may declare, "we can't have THAT. Clearly if Ninety's the Mole and we vote to let him take the quiz, he'll flunk all the questions and bring the percentage plummeting down. We're sure to lose our 100 EP!" Well, maybe. And then again, maybe not. Don't you think it would look a little suspicious if the percentage for this next quiz turned out to be something really hideous, like 8%? Maybe the Mole would rather forfeit his/her 50 EP and ace the quiz, so as to make it look like s/he's actually a smart contestant who's on the right track. Or maybe the Mole would split the quiz down the middle and just try to blend in with the other results!
That's what makes this game so lovely, and also so fucking infuriating. Every action could be driven by multiple motivations. There are two ways to interpret everything. But through this sea of ambiguity I ask you to wade your way to a conclusion:
Make Ninety sit the quiz, or give him the night off?
All five of you who aren't Ninety, please post in this topic -- don't PM me! -- and vote either yes to include him or no to exclude him. I'll give you the rest of today and tomorrow. If a majority isn't reached by the end of Thursday, Ninety will be excluded from the quiz (since that would have been the default action if I hadn't offered this opportunity).
Ninety, you don't get a vote, obviously, but you're allowed to pipe up here anyway. If you're feeling really confident about your Mole suspect and think that excluding you from the quiz would be a mistake, you can feel free to petition for "yes" votes. Or, for that matter, if you're actually kinda unsure about the Mole's identity, or just want to get out of the spotlight, you can just as well ask people to vote "no". However, no one's vote may be changed, once the player has posted it.
Discuss/vote now.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Apr 18, 2012 21:53:54 GMT -5
oh. OH. I thought it was a collective PM to you for our votes. My bad! I totes knew El was telling the twooth.
Anyway, yes, Ninety needs to take the quiz. He's no Mole.
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Post by Ninety on Apr 19, 2012 11:18:41 GMT -5
I think I have a pretty good idea who the mole is.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 19, 2012 11:39:26 GMT -5
Are we only going to allow the Texans a say in this matter? The same thing happened last time we ran this vote!
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Post by Belle on Apr 19, 2012 11:55:41 GMT -5
If Ninety's feeling confident about it I'll say yes!
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Apr 19, 2012 12:31:45 GMT -5
Go for it, 90
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 19, 2012 12:41:22 GMT -5
Fair enough. Since three players have chimed in, and no one's vote can be changed, a majority has been reached. Ninety will sit the quiz, and his score will be factored into the success percentage. Pray you've done the right thing by trusting him.
Final challenge begins very soon, after I take care of a little preliminary business. Tomorrow, probably. Spoiler alert: you'll be competing to get your hands on a unique prize, something altogether different from the likes of exemptions and "jokers". It should be a quick challenge, and a fun one. I'm looking forward to it. But mostly to the aftermath!
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Sem
Adventurer
<.<
Posts: 96
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Post by Sem on Apr 19, 2012 12:50:09 GMT -5
What? Why do I get to be exempt but 90 doesn't? No fair. Wait... No, go ahead
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 20, 2012 10:08:56 GMT -5
Okay new challenge time go! Behold: a super crappy depiction of the Host's dossier. I own that dossier. It's mine. A more exhaustive catalogue of suspects, challenges, and quiz questions you will not find. It is simply filled to bursting with information that would rip this game a new one. And I've hidden it somewhere on the board (under a different URL than the image above, mind you). Your task is to find that dossier and PM me with a link to the post containing it. Each of you has to do that. Separately. You each need to PM me individually. So, Biscuit, what I'm gonna need is a PM from you, and also a totally different PM from Testbug, and one from Elliot, another from Belle, one more from Sem and also one from Ninety, and every single one of those (six!) PMs will contain a link to the post containing the dossier. Got it? However, that's only half the battle, and in fact no money will be awarded just for managing to do that. You must also, by PM, submit an ordinal guess as to which position you think you PMed me the dossier's location in. All that means is that you need to guess "I think I was the first one to PM you", or "I think I was the fourth one to PM you", or the like. That's mandatory. When I've received all PMs, EP will be awarded based on how accurate were everyone's ordinal guesses. If your ordinal guess was exactly correct, you earn 5 EP for the pot. If your ordinal guess was off by one (say, you guessed "third" when you were actually either second or fourth) you earn 2 EP for the pot. If your ordinal guess was off by more than one, you earn no EP for the pot.So, an easy 30 EP is up for grabs! But is that what we really care about in this challenge? Nah. You see, as I said, there's also a special prize in this mission, one that is quite different from the likes of exemptions and "jokers". When all six PMs have been received, I'll offer that prize to the first person whose ordinal guess was correct. What's the prize? Oh... Oh come on now. That's kinda obvious, isn't it? Now: if I just turned you loose on the board and told you to find the dossier, that would be pretty shitty of me. It would be like "The Thumbprint Search", except with only one thumbprint instead of thirty. And that's lame. So I'll be PMing around some clues. If you can put all of them together, the task will morph from "stupidly tedious and impossible" into "time-consuming but definitely doable". Clues will go out shortly, and as for deadlines, let's say you have until the end of Monday to PM me. Then we'll run the quiz next week, and finally lay this episode to rest.
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Post by Ninety on Apr 20, 2012 12:14:26 GMT -5
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Post by Belle on Apr 21, 2012 0:19:31 GMT -5
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Post by Testbug on Apr 21, 2012 20:46:28 GMT -5
Clue #2: The person who created the topic containing the dossier is one of the twelve Mole players. Clue #3: In the topic containing the dossier, the most recent post is from 2011 (note: I’ll be honest and announce if this changes – that is, if someone writes a new post in that topic during the challenge). The person who wrote that post is not one of the twelve Mole players. Clue #6: None of the members mentioned in Clues #1-5 is Pohatu. Clue #8: Clue #5 is false.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 21, 2012 22:03:52 GMT -5
Seems you're just missing that false Clue #5. It would be nice to know what isn't true...
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Apr 22, 2012 3:50:34 GMT -5
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 23, 2012 18:53:05 GMT -5
Well, all the clues are on the table, but I haven't gotten any PMs yet... Let's extend this to the end of Thursday.
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Sem
Adventurer
<.<
Posts: 96
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Post by Sem on Apr 24, 2012 14:21:51 GMT -5
This isn't about the challenge, but I would like to point something out that I noticed while looking back through the thread and this seems as good a place as any to do so.
The team pot seems to be off a bit.
At the end of the suitcase challenge we won 30 EP and brought our EP amount to 227.
At the end of the next challenge, the story challenge, we won 16 EP, which means we should be at 243 or something. Instead we're at 263. Was this a typo or what? Not that I'm complaining |D I just wanted to clarify...
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 24, 2012 14:50:34 GMT -5
Ah! I was hoping someone would notice that! No, that wasn't a typo at all -- it was a secret mini-challenge, "The Surprise Audit". You're quite right, I fudged the EP calculation. While adding to the pot after "Story Time!", I threw an extra 20 EP in there to see if anyone would notice the discrepancy. The idea was that if no one pointed it out to me by the time of this episode's execution ceremony, not only would that phantom 20 EP disappear but a further 20 EP you'd actually earned would be deducted from the pot and given to the Mole. And I was pretty worried there for a few days. It looked as if the team's annoyingly accurate streak of pointing out my clerical errors had finally come up short. But, since Sem caught the mistake in time, you guys get to keep the phantom 20 EP! It becomes real EP. Which is almost as real as real money.Oh, and in case it sounds like I'm just pulling this whole thing out of my ass, here's a link to the online Mole game which directly inspired this challenge. Credit to racefan12 for that one. (That game just ended not long ago. It's a decent read, with a few other interesting challenges. But not as cool as our game.) Nice spotting, Sem. I knew there'd be a reason for keeping you around. Now what about that dossier, hmm? Anyone? THE TEAM POT: 263 EP THE MOLE'S POCKET: 161 EP
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Sem
Adventurer
<.<
Posts: 96
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Post by Sem on Apr 24, 2012 18:21:50 GMT -5
... Woo! Being honest pays off sometimes I guess |D
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Post by Ninety on Apr 24, 2012 20:18:04 GMT -5
Clue #1: The person who wrote the post containing the dossier is not one of the twelve Mole players. Clue #2: The person who created the topic containing the dossier is not one of the twelve Mole players. Clue #3: In the topic containing the dossier, the most recent post is from 2011 (note: I’ll be honest and announce if this changes – that is, if someone writes a new post in that topic during the challenge). The person who wrote that post is not one of the twelve Mole players. Clue #4: The members mentioned in Clues #1-3 are all different people. Clue #5: None One of the members mentioned in Clues #1-4 is Lee. Clue #6: None of the members mentioned in Clues #1-5 is Pohatu.
Those are the clues adjusted for truthfulness.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 24, 2012 22:38:16 GMT -5
I'm gonna add two more to be nice.
Clue 9: The dossier is not located in the Scrap Heap. Clue 10: The topic containing the dossier includes no more than five pages.
I'm mean but I am not barbaric.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Apr 25, 2012 9:13:53 GMT -5
Huh. I didn't get any different clues. So we're short Clues 7 and 8.
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Post by Ninety on Apr 25, 2012 11:09:32 GMT -5
We got them. I cut them out because they were
Clue #7: Clue #2 is false. Clue #8: Clue #5 is false.
I just posted clues 1-6 and adjusted clues 2 and 5 accordingly.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 25, 2012 11:35:56 GMT -5
I just checked up on the dossier's location and realized that the image had broken. Fock you, Tinypic! I re-uploaded the image through another site and reposted it in the same location here on the board.
Sorry! I don't know how recently that happened. I hope no one skimmed over the image by mistake. Probably gonna extend the challenge by a few more days if no one's found it by tomorrow.
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