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Last Logged In: January 1st, 2014
BADGE: The Sweet Cheat Gone BADGE: Dispatch Challenge Winner TEAM: Society for the Superior Completion of Tasks TEAM: Group Creation Public Badge TEAM: Team Shplank TEAM: San Francisco Zero

60 + 25 points

The Sweet Cheat Gone by Cameron, Al gae

March 15th, 2007 5:12 PM


Please read and comment if anything is unclear. You may also download these instructions, plus a map of the game area.

You must register in groups of 5 or less. Each member of your group will be assigned to either prosecution or defense. Note: your role is secret and should not be revealed to fellow players (unless it is your strategy to do so). The prosecution will attempt to prove the defendant’s guilt; the defense will attempt to prove the defendant’s innocence.

1. With your group, collect as many unique pieces of photographic evidence as you can.
2. Individually, render inadmissible any evidence that doesn’t support your side. For instance, if you’re a prosecutor you’ll want to render innocence evidence inadmissible.

Photographic evidence is hidden in various locations around the city. Some pieces of evidence contain clues which will lead to other locations. Use these clues and the map provided to find all the locations in the game. Each piece of evidence you find will point to either innocence or guilt, as indicated by the following symbols:

At the end of the game we will tally two scores: your group’s score, and an overall prosecution and defense score.

Group Score: Your group receives one point for each unique piece of evidence (photograph) collected. Your group will not receive points for any duplicate photos. We have a limited number of photos, so please take only one of each photo. The group with the most points at the end wins.

Prosecution And Defense Score: When your group reaches the final checkpoint we will count the total number of innocent and guilty images you have collected. If your group has more innocent images than guilty images, your group’s vote will be counted as innocent. If your group has more guilty images than innocent images, your group’s vote will be guilty. In the event of a tie, your group’s vote will be determined by a real lawsuit. By tallying the group votes in this structural-legal manner we will determine, beyond a shadow of a reasonable doubt, the verdict, and thus the always-already inescapable fate of our heroine.

Scattered throughout the map are Notaries capable of rendering your evidence inadmissible. Inadmissible evidence will still count to your group’s score, but will no longer count towards your group’s vote of innocent or guilty. Rendering evidence inadmissible is very important, as it allows you to build your case for prosecution or defense without destroying evidence that would contribute to your group’s score. Before rendering evidence inadmissible, the notary will ask if there are any objections from those present. If there are no objections, the evidence will be rendered inadmissible. Thus, a visit to the notary is best done in secret. One notary is above the freeway, one is by a hospital, and one is at the final checkpoint.

At some locations you will find friendly SFZero agents who will give you pieces of evidence or clues to help you find all the locations. You may also encounter enemy SFZero agents who, if they catch (tag) you, have the power to destroy your evidence or delay your progress. If you are caught by enemy agents you are required to do whatever they ask of you. Enemy agents will wear masks.

All teams must bring their evidence to the end point by 12:00. Locations will be unmanned after 11:00, at which point the only active notary will be at the end point.

The Sweet Cheat Gone ends with a party on Terry Francois Blvd. You can find the exact location of the party and more specific directions on your map. Feel free to show up at the party whenever you like, and to invite friends. We’ll be offering drinks in exchange for a reasonable donation (so bring some cash).

No cars or taxis - bikes, feet, and public transportation are OK.
No player killing.


The Tale of Team Camel

The night is dark and streaked with filthy rain when we hit the end of Market. The ferry building juts into the air like an obscene altar to alternative transportation. The thick night is sodden with the rain, and the aroma of wet dogs permeates everything. Where I expect to see teaming throngs of starry eyed idealists, I see only passing vagrants and vagabonds. I stare grimly at them, hoping for some flash of recognition, but their eyes are cold.

We walk through the empty halls of the Ferry Building, glancing around for any signs or signifier, but find none. A family, evidently lost in the urban labyrinth approaches and asks for directions. I size them up, trying to figure out if this is how the game begins.

Soon, we feel the pull of our empty stomachs and stroll into the automat to order greasy burgers and fried potatoes. Temporarily sated, we send our voices out on carrier waves to a signal tower, relay them back to our allies, who direct us to a bus stop across the road. We approach warily.

Investigators and provocateurs huddle in the relative dryness of the shelter and we are handed the evidence, and a rule sheet. We read it quickly, and not as thoroughly as we should, and we head out for the parking garage at 5th and mission.

One grimy train ride later, and we're back out on the road, pummeled by filthy water. We triangulate our location by the garish neon signs, and soon find ourselves on the roof, digging our frozen fingers into plastic baggies to retrieve strange photographs. A man approaches, tall and shrouded in a rain coat. He hands us more evidence, and mutters the word "Lexington" before returning to the gloom.

At this point, my socks are soaked through and I can feel the skin tearing. I can't make it much longer, I say, and we enter the mall across the road. We stalk nervously among the great edifice of consumerism, until a shoe store sings it's siren call. I purchase socks, and put them on in the subway.

The N train takes us past the metropolitan splendor of the downtown area into the strange hinterland of Mission Bay. I glance idly at the rule sheet, only to discover that we have been tracked this whole time. I curse my foolishness. Of course they are after us. Why wouldn't they be?

At the last stop we depart the iron horse, and begin our journey into the darkness. A man, maybe a player, maybe just some poor sod afraid for his life, runs past us at a full clip. Best be careful, I mutter to my companion. We draw up our hoods and walk slowly. Our best hope would be to be mistook for two wanderers, and avoid the enemy agents.

We reach the river that bisects the park, and while looking for a crossing we see a strange sight: A man, on a three wheeled bike, slowly advancing on us from a distance.

No sudden moves, I whisper. We continue walking towards him.

Not yet.

We reach an intersection on the path.

Now! I hiss, and we break into a sprint, moving laterally to the strange figure. We dash among the monolithic apartment complexes, gasping for air, until we make our way back to the path, having fully routed our pursuer.

A bridge is illuminated in the distant industrial light, and we cross it; we return to our aimless walk, keeping one sideways eye on the man on the bike. He is peddling away from us now.

On the other side, we enter a glass enclosure to find a surreal scene. A kindly couple offers us pencils and papers, and asks us if we are here to take "the Bar". I nod slowly, not knowing where this will lead. I can see Ms. Gae go pale. She has been through this before, and has no desire to do it again. Still, we must, and we do.

When we are asked to identify our selves on a map, I draw an arrow pointing to my relative position. Ms. Gae takes the map, and steps on it, leaving a dark boot print. Clever girl.

That ordeal over, we collect our reward, and venture back into the storm, now with one additional point circled on our map. In the deluge, the map has turned to sludge, and our navigation becomes labored. We take the long way, mucking through puddles of industrial grime, huddling in shadows whenever anyone passes. We move like ghosts through an unfamiliar cityscape; instantly recognizable, but utterly foreign.

The map leads us to the dark spaces beneath a vaulted freeway. We see two strangers in the dark, sizing us up. We walk slowly, heads down, attempting to size up these strangers. No doubt they did the same to us. When we were sure they meant us no immediate harm, we turn sharply and close in, catching them off guard.

The man is pacing and anxious, his companion is stoic. He grills us and we respond with stony passivity. Finally he relents, and hands us the evidence. He points us in the direction of the cal train rails, and we slip away once more.

We attempt to catch a bus, but lacking a schedule, or a clear idea of our destination, we fail, and strike out on foot to the hospital.

It is a long weary march. We pass through a forest of warehouses and begin to climb the hills of the lower city. We knew we were bound for a hospital, but not much else, and many a time we become lost in the unknown terrain. The rain has mostly abated now, but I am soaked to the bone.

We finally reach the hospital. A strange piece of art stands alone in a field and it tickles the back of my skull. I paw through our soaking evidence, until I find what I am looking for. This statue is a sign, and beneath it's concrete base, further photos are found.

A glance at my watch proves my fears correct: the time is drawing near. We search for friendly agents around the hospital, and spot a trio of smiling people, who don't look sick enough to use the hospital for it's intended purpose.

I think we're looking for you, I venture.

You probably are, they respond. The last of our evidence changes hands, and we collate our stack.

At the outset, as our group was made up of two, we agreed we would stick to the facts, no matter what they be... no evidence would be notarized.

When my partners back is turned, one of the agents offers to do just that. I am sorely tempted, but think on the consequences of betrayal, and politely decline.

We meet up with another group, and I watch with mild bemusement as a stack of photos are notarized, and stricken from the record. I take a little joy in that they are on the same side as I.

We are graciously offered a ride to the docks, where a party is rumored to be held. I have no trouble accepting, as I am weighted down with great buckets of water, and am sore from many traveled miles.

At the warehouse, we linger long enough to hear the verdict and consume a few libations before once again walking a mile or so through the ghost lands of the cities east side. It takes us an hour to call a cab, and I nearly pass out as soon as I am sitting down.

That night, we sleep the sleep of the just.

- smaller

5 vote(s)


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3 comment(s)

It was a dark and stormy night
posted by Cthulhu Kitty on March 18th, 2007 5:58 PM

Great Noir Exposition!

(no subject)
posted by Orion on March 21st, 2007 10:12 PM

Quite impressively, you managed to scare me that night when little else could. You guys were on a mission...

(no subject)
posted by Westley on January 8th, 2008 3:40 PM

this is my kind of story.