Can I play with madness,
The prophet stared at his crystal ball.
Can I play with madness,
There's no vision there at all.
- Iron Maiden, Can I Play With Madness

There was a strong temptation for me to not do this task. Leaving pithy, one-line fortunes all over town smacks of the sort of thing that Hipsters do, and since Hipsters represent a lot of things about youth culture that I, in my old age, grumble about, I was loathe to do anything that might admit they have something going. I'll spare you the long discussion about why Hipsters and I are on the rocks- their paramount offenses include a tragic misuse of the word "irony", which kills me inside- and just say that this task seemed altogether too much like something they might do.

Hipsters, take a knee- me, doing this? That's ironic.

But I shortly realized I could leverage this as I did my famous "typically, sharks abhor mathematics" incident- an opportunity to deliver some practical, down-to-earth fortunes that would remind people that not everything left in a random place and delivering a life-affirming aphorism has to be from a Hipster.

And this seemed like a nice, quick task I could do without much sweat. After my Street-ster Eggs and Katabasis completions- both a little heavy, in their own ways- it seemed like a simple Level 1 task would be a good way to relax a little.

I sat down on my lunch break and quickly banged out eight fortunes that I thought would give people a bit of that pep, zest, and existential confusion that they've lost. They are as follows:

"You'll eat breakfast tomorrow, and it'll be good".
"Soon, someone will tell you that you can't do something. You'll probably listen, because it'll be something like 'You can't eat a live shark', or 'You can't ramp a truck off a deer'. Don't sweat it, some days it isn't worth being contrarian".
"You can't predict the future. Neither can I, but I'm the one hiding fortunes all over town. That says something about how sensible you are. It says you are pretty sensible".
"In your life, you will endeavour to avoid dangerous animals. That's a good decision. Alternatively, you'll get a job handling dangerous animals, but that's okay, because you'll have training".
"That movie you're thinking of seeing is probably pretty good. You'll like it".
"You'll make a mistake today, but I mean, so will everyone else. So, hey, whatever. It's all good".
"Remember, sometimes it's the journey, not the destination, that matters. But, y'know, maybe this time it is
the destination. How am I supposed to know? Don't let me tell you what to do".
"In spite of your fears, you probably matter. I mean, I can't speak to your case, but just statistically, y'know, math-wise, it'd be weird if you didn't".



They don't all make concrete predictions about the future, but they do have that hint of noncommittal vagueness that characterizes cookie fortunes. Most importantly, they follow the cardinal rule of fortunes of this type- they are all better when you append the phrase "... in bed" to the end.

"Don't let me tell you what to do... in bed". Magical.

Thus equipped, I set out after work to drop them off in conveniently openable locations. I toyed with the idea of writing "sf0.org" on each one, but I went against it for two reasons. The first was it felt too much like advertising- I want to get more people in on the game, yes, but I didn't want this to come off like some kind of sleazy viral marketing gimmick. The second was that I honestly kind of liked the idea that it would go unexplained. That people would just find these around and be left to wonder from whence they came. That idea appealed to me. So I left the URL off, and resolved to, if caught placing them, explain the game then.

Of course, part of the goal was to not get caught. After all, if that happened, I'd rapidly find myself having to explain to people that I was "leaving fortune cookie-style messages all across town as part of a collaborative online alternate-reality roleplaying game", and that raises more questions than it answers, like "why", "a collaborative what", and "get out of my store".

I also decided not to leave any around the workplace. My semi-coherent scrawl is well-known around these parts (it can often be found decorating the walls), and I was in no mood to have any of my coworkers think I was any crazier than they already assumed.

I decided the best place to start was a bookstore- books are great for hiding fortunes, and it's almost guaranteed that someone will eventually see them. I biked down to Spring Garden, dropped into a bookstore, and tucked the first fortune away in a copy of Stephen Colbert's "I Am America (And So Can You!)"



It seemed apropos.

I tried to get a photo of the fortune in the book, but the store was crowded, I was nervous, and as soon as I heard someone approaching behind me, I slammed the book shut, put it back on the shelf, and ran out of the store. Subtly.

But I didn't want to leave all my fortunes in books. Plenty of people had done that already, and I wanted to ensure that my fortunes were found by more than just the local literati. I found the perfect spot while biking down the street:



And since there was a sticker depicting an alligator above it...



Its coin return slot seemed the perfect place to tuck away my fortune about dangerous animals.



I decided that a good place to leave the next one would be the chalk bins from my Street-ster Eggs task. Cheerfully going about my task, I hopped back on my bike and doubled back towards the construction site.



There was no space left for me to write more sage advice, but I didn't need to, because someone had already drawn something better than I could have hoped for on the far left board.



Someone clearly tried to scuff it out, but that's still pretty clearly one of the Wonderbolts (I'm not sure which, but I think it's Soarin'). The sight of ponies invigorated me, as it always does. Thus renewed, I headed across the street to the library, which I was sure would be an easy placement.

When I got there, I saw a book called "The Book of Secrets", which seemed like a fairly appropriate location.



But then I saw a book called "Heroes of the Dawn", about Celtic mythology, and that is just metal as all hell. So I stuck the fortune in there instead.



I placed my next one in a copy of an Aliens comic book in Strange Adventures:



At which point I realized that in spite of my earlier resolution, three of the five fortunes I'd placed so far were in books. I rolled on down to the waterfront in search of new and interesting places to hide fortunes.

The next one was in a crack at the top of an electrical box (which would be opened at some point).



After this, I got a croissant. I mention this only because it was the size of an entire loaf of bread. I wish I'd photographed it, but I wasn't thinking that straight at the time. Seriously, this thing was huge! It was full of chocolate and covered in icing sugar. It was delicious, but I got a horrible stomach ache. Learned my lesson there. WIS +1, as the saying goes.

I continued to ride the Steed home, disturbed by the lack of openable structures. Desperately scanning the landscape as I biked along the fresh new trail laid down recently, I came across this:



An empty chip bag seemed like a novel and interesting structure in which to place a fortune- there was, of course, no guarantee that it would ever actually be found, but that's the way the cookie crumbles.



I fluffed the bag up a bit and put it in a slightly more visible location. Perhaps some passerby would pick it up, expecting it to be an actual full bag of chips. Imagine their surprise when they find a fortune within! Imagine their disappointment.

I was almost home when I realized I still had one fortune left- "You'll eat breakfast tomorrow, and it'll be good". I knew precisely where to put it, too.



In the construction site where I did my lackluster completion of the Trespassing task, there's a concrete pillar with a few wires and bolts and whatnot coming out of it. One of the bolts has a coffee cup impaled on the top of it. I figured this would be an excellent place for a fortune about breakfast.

So, ever so gingerly, I sidled through the open gates and towards the cup.



I tried to get a little further in, just to redeem myself for my otherwise poor completion on my last visit, but after a few photos I thought I heard someone coming, so I decided to cut and run.

All in all, I was pretty glad to do this task. It was nice to have an adventure where I didn't get attacked by horrors from beyond the veil, nearly devoured by a horrible trash beast, or trapped in a dungeon. It was just a good way to remind myself that sometimes it's okay to just sit back, relax, and hide fortunes all over town.