Green Death, Hidden Moron

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
41

We did something similar in college (1991), and I wasn’t quite up to Wild Man’s standards, although I was something of an ass about it.

I knew my target pretty well, and he was totally paranoid about the game, so he was hard to get. I finally heard him lamenting that he had a big test on Friday in Chemistry that he was totally unprepared for to someone else I knew, so I went and winkled the time and building of his chemistry section out of the other person, without letting on that I was interested in water-gunning the other guy.

So I basically lurked in the lobby of the building waiting for my target to get out of his test. He staggered out, totally dazed, thinking he’d bombed the test. I followed him outside, let him get away from other people, trotted up and squirted him in the face.

Needless to say, he didn’t think taking advantage of his poor test performance and subsequent confusion/depression was very cool.

42

The Tenth Victim (1965)

43

We played UNCLE and SPECTRE. Two teams, out in the woods. One team had The Item and tried to get it to some obvious landmark, usually the top of a hill. The other team would try to hunt you down and capture you. If you had The Item, you had to fess up and the game was over. If you didn’t, you had to sit in place for five minutes before rejoining the game. The Item could be passed to anybody else on your team at any time, so even if you were captured, you could still end up being the carrier later. Hours of fun. On occasion, a young lady who fancied you would deliberately let you tackle her so you could wrestle in the grass.

44

We played in the mid 80’s in high school. Our weapon of choice was guns that fired the yellow pellet a little bigger than a BB. They made a pump shotgun version. It’s hanging on the wall of my shop today…

My favorite kill was during baseball practice when Pat looked at me like why are you here? Poor unarmed schlub never stood a chance.

At first we had a few teachers conspiring with us. Then the authorities cracked down when it became known there was a 3 ring binder in the hands of students. It was a master list of all the locker combanations. One confetti bomb too many.

Poor kids today.

45

…they made a PUMP SHOTGUN version of that thing? Ouch!

And kids today don’t have it THAT bad. I rather liked the full-auto belt fed dart gun that Nerf released a few years back…

46

Here, too (though, they used paint): Gotcha! (1985) - IMDb

47

I dunno… I’ve played paintball, and while I found it entertaining and physically challenging, it still seemed kinda like cheating. There are entire stores and online havens devoted to paintball and its equipment, much of which is designed and engineered for range, power, and “lethality,” so to speak. There are arenas, both indoor and out, and you can spend a fortune on everything from precision-tooled paint weapons to repurposed Army Surplus outerwear.

It lacks the … hell, I dunno, je ne sais quoi, or whatever, of running around the quad in jeans, T-shirt and sneaks with a cheap children’s water pistol, freaking out the cubes and doin’ murder most… damp.

48

You clearly haven’t played paintball

49

How do you deal with sub-rings? With 5 players you would ideally get something like:
A kills C kills E kills D kills B kills A

But you could get:
A kills B kills A
AND
C kills E kills D kills C

Where you would have two winners who would never have to kill each other.

50

Ah, but the way it worked was that each person had ONE death certificate: the name of his victim.

If A killed B, B was then required to hand over his certificate, which had C’s name on it. A was then gunning for C. But if C successfully defended himself and killed A, then C still had his victim, and whoever was assigned to kill A would receive a new victim from the Committee… probably C.

“There can be only one,” was the name of the game; it continued until one player survived. And weirdly enough, no one ever cheated; creative interpretation of the rules was encouraged, but none of my chums ever lied and said, “Screw you, ya missed.”

It WAS possible, and often happened, when players would gun each other down. In particular, I recall one incident where the Creature saw me get in an elevator, and ran like hell up four flights of stairs, and beat the elevator there. He then drew his weapon, and waited.

The door opened.

But I’d seen the Creature spot me and pelt thru the common room to the stairwell. I knew damn good and well he was out there. And he knew damn good and well I was in the elevator.

So I hit the DOWN button.

He caught the door with his foot, making the doors open again, without exposing more than his toe.

We sat there, staying the hell out of each other’s line of sight for a good year and a half. Or so it felt. As it is, the door tried to close three times, and three times, he stopped it.

Finally I leaped out, determined to kill the bastard or die in a blaze of glory. I unloaded both my squirt guns.

Weirdly enough, he did the exact same thing at the exact same time. Neither of us could, with any authority, say who’d killed who.

We took the matter to the committee, who agreed and invalidated both our kills. We were both still alive. We shook hands and agreed to a one hour truce between us.

And then he smashed a water balloon over my head.

Bastard.

51

And how, using these rules, could two guys team up, and how could Wild Man defend himself against both of them? Heck, how could anyone defend themselves against anyone? If the only person you can kill is your named target, then you can’t kill the guy who’s targeting you.

The whole bit about everyone drawing a name just seems to add a lot more trouble than it’s worth.

52

You know, now that you mention it, that does sound kind of unkosher. It probably would have been appealed had they succeeded, and the committee prolly wouldna let it stand.

Since they got hosed, however, the question was moot.

53

Ah,the memories… Thanks for your tale. (Don’t mean to hijack your thread, but rather just ride on your coattails)

My friends and I did something similar - I believe it was the Summer of 1986. While my tale-telling skills are nowhere near your level, I will include some of the highlights.

Our games ran the mean streets of San Antonio. We started only on the NE side, but it soon escalated all over the city. Safe zones were limited to places of employment (either yours or your target’s), inside the personal home/apartment (but the yards were fair game), and inside a classroom environment (but school hallways were allowed). The original KILLER rules (Steve Jackson Games) were in effect. Kills could only be allowed if the victim KNEW they were hit, so no cameras (until sniper rules were later developed). Assassins who accomplished a kill would then approach the victim, explain (if needed), and take the victim’s next target profile and picture. So A kills B and B never gets a chance to kill C, because C is now the intended victim for A. This worked out very well if B had previously made an attempt to kill C and was made (identified by intended victim). So C usually never saw A as a threat. The “double agent” system became a quick favorite. The basic ploy was “hey, I’ll help you kill yours if you help me kill mine”, which usually ended up poorly for player B.

The first game (there was to be only one game, but we all had such a fun time that it expanded over time and even more so as non-players who received collateral damage were often invited to participate (and have a chance to get even). I think we started out with about 15 people but ended up with well over 40 at the end of the first game.

The judge was called “GOD”, a nickname I still use for my friend to this day. Simple rules. God gave you a profile sheet and a polaroid of the target. Your mission was easy: Highlander rules. Kill or be killed. You only got two chances to die. Die once, you get recycled (after a 3 day wait period). Die twice and you’re out until GOD says so. He would usually only recycle good players, not stick-in-the-mud part time players. We had some active Army guys playing, and they took it pretty seriously.

We had a point system, but collateral damage was waay down on the list. It was sometimes encouraged, depending upon the environment where a kill was scored and who was involved.

Weapons started basic, but grew complex pretty fast. Squirt guns (this was back in the day when you could still buy a black Uzi water pistol without all the neon safety colors), water balloons, suction cup guns, disc shooters, and plastic pellet guns. Most weapons acquired at TG&Y or Toys R Us were automatically approved as (generally) safe, but as people started to get creative, God had to implement safety rules.

To make things even more interesting, the original group had a habit of getting together at somebody or other’s house/apt/dorm on Saturday nights to party. This was generally agreed upon to be a “safe” event, but many folks got mowed down if they went to the treeline to take a leak. It was an uneasy truce, but once we started inviting new players, new faces at the party were usually warily welcomed.

Things started off slow. Over a few Saturday night planning meetings, the rules were established and GOD took polaroids of everybody present. Little did we know he had some ringers from his University. Your first envelope had a picture, a profile, and the sheet of rules. These were distributed over the weekend, and everybody understood the game started at 8:00 AM Monday. Things got crazy pretty fast after that.

I can’t vouch for all the stories, and don’t even remember half of them, but every Saturday night tales of conquest and victory rang as loudly as if they were in a Klingon Feast Hall. Right out of the gate, one rookie hit the drive through at McD’s on the way to class and saw his vic in the drive through window. The vic got hosed and the shooter pulled away to park and claim victory. The original target, working on the understanding that he should have been safe because he’s at work, lay around the corner to ambush the shooter as he came in. He missed, and the morning crowd of diners were given a display of ‘how not to kill discreetly’ and more than a few got hosed themselves. This was mostly seen as comical by the diners. That is, until the manager came out from behind the counter armed with the aforementioned Uzi and ordered the combatants to cease. It was, after all, her McD’s, so she could enforce the rules. After a brief explanation, all was back to normal.

My first target was an Army guy who taught at the Academy of Health Sciences on Fort Sam Houston (back when it was still an open base). I had the summer off from class, so I had lots of time on my hands. I managed to stalk him from his home to work a few times and quickly figured out his daily schedule, even found his reserved parking spot. So for a few days I loitered around the second floor landing pretending to take pictures of the Academy. I was really just scoping out the parking lot to see when my target arrived. The day I decided to strike, I had pre-loaded my camera bag with water balloons. I watched him park and start toward the building. When he got to the corner of the landing, I let one fly. Missed him by that much, and it landed in front of him. He didn’t even look back - just started sprinting toward the entrance. So we’re both running the length of the building, me on the 2d floor flinging balloons like mortar fire and him on the sidewalk, going at a full sprint. Everybody else scattered. But I didn’t get him. Once I knew he would easily make the building (and knowing I wouldn’t get him today), I hid behind a pillar so he would’t see me. Swift and silent escape. Live to hunt another day.

Jay had a sweet plan. He was a volunteer fireman and had all the gear: a badge, a semi-official FD logo license plate and the portable red-light bubble on his dash. He would go up to his target’s house, light flashing and show the badge. He’d ask them to come outside to look at the water main and then would hit folks in the back. Bastard. That only worked twice; word got out right fast.

Oh, that was another rule. Victims couldn’t talk until re-cycled. No secrets out on the killing floor.

One lonely Friday night I waited until dark and hid underneath the stairwell of my next vic. It was dark and not comfy. Then it started to rain. After a few hours I was willing to give up, but then I saw HIS car pull up. Two men got out. One had a case of beer. I had the picture, but couldn’t see faces in the dark. As they approached the stairwell, I stood up and shot him in the torso and groin (groin shots were my trademark; can’t very well dispute a wet crotch). The other guy took off running. I confronted Beerman: “Are you Mark? ARE YOU MARK?” He denied it, and I went off running after the other guy. This was a short game of hide and seek between parked cars in the lot. But I finally got him too. When I questioned him, he said the other guy was really Mark. We all went back to Mark’s apartment, had a few beers and got the matter all sorted out. Turns out I had shot Mark first, but he had lured in Tim for a few beers. His plan was to get him drunk and then shoot him on the way to the next beer run. So I managed to kill my vic and his target as well. A good night for me.

Sue’s plan was more basic. Hang out in her victim’s bar and get a bit chummy. She’s pretty, so she can get away with it. Eventually, she invites the vic out to the parking lot (for whatever would motivate the vic; Sue wasn’t a very honest girl) and then hosing would ensue. She became the “Black Widow”.

More and more interesting kills were to follow, but once Assassins started getting civilians involved, GOD had to call an end the game. The rules were restructured, and we moved on to the second round…