tl;dr? Here's what you will be missing on:
- An element of pure randomness.
- A conspiracy to deliver.
- A detective in distress
- A successful re-con
Many months ago, Pixie asked a few selected players (or a whole bunch of random players - who knows?) to send her random items to support her in tasking.
relet happened to know a fellow
gentleman living in the general area, and thought it would be much more entertaining to deliver something without traces of it having been sent by mail. He therefore had the most random item he could think of - a shapeless, intelligent mass of pure randomness; We shall henceforth call it the specimen
- shipped to AP R, and tasked the latter to deliver it to Pixies doorstep.
The first attempt to deliver the specimen to AP R failed. The UPS tracking notice specifies the delivery location as "PORCH". No trace was left on the porch. We must therefore assume that an evil twin of the specimen is hiding in the Portland underground.
Shortly thereafter, a second package was sent. The laboratory where these specimen grew in alien tanks was kind enough to provide a second sample. AP R attempted delivery, but was thwarted by inability to get off of work when the Pixie's building was open. Or to get into the building in the disguise of an agent-scientist after dark.
Then, a few days ago, relet suggested that AP R hide the package at or near a geohashing hashpoint
, an activity that AP R was known to engage in anyways, and that should provide an appropriate random burial ground for an elemental of randomness. And so it was buried, and bound with the letters P, D and Smørrebrød.
After deciding that AP R would hide it at, or near, a geohashing point that landed within Portland, he began waiting for an appropriate point. Since geohashing points are typically generated at 6:30 AM Portland time, and only valid for that day, this meant that AP R would likely have to make an after-work adventure to hide the specimen
. On September 13th, such a day arose. AP R noticed that the geohashing point was likely going to be inaccessible, but that there was a nearby park, which would be accessible to even the most transportationally challenged of Portlanders, since a bus line had a stop at that park.
Though the geohashing point was inaccessible, due to being inside a warehouse, AP R ventured towards it and got as close as possible. After that, he ventured to the park, and gathered all of the tools needed for burial. This included a pen to complete the delivery note, the specimen
, a (hopefully) waterproof bag (from a newspaper), and a GPS receiver to mark the location. He started back into the park, noting that the front of the park was highly trafficked, and that there weren't many good hiding spots. He then proceeded back past a couple of baseball and soccer fields, as well as a skate park. Then he made it down to a track which ran around one of the fields, and also back into the woods near a disc golf course. This section of woods would be the perfect hiding place for a specimen
as crafty as the one AP R was charged with hiding.
AP R boldly ran head-first into the woods, looking for the perfect, out of the way hiding place for the specimen
. There were a few people playing disc golf on one of the holes which ran through the woods, and a dozen or so people in matching t-shirts and riding mountain bikes. He decided it best not to bury it too close to these people, as they may wonder why someone would be digging what kind of looks like a shallow grave in the woods. Continuing further back, AP R notices a spot which seems secluded enough not to be disturbed, but yes accessible enough and clear enough that a mark would surely be seen.
First he took note of the position of the planned burial location, as well as took pictures of the general area to aid the finding process. Then he finished filling out the "packing slip", and put the specimen
into the (hopefully) waterproof bag. He then dug a shallow grave for the specimen
and buried it. Finally, he marked the location with a Ø, and added a PD in front of it, just to make sure it was clearly marked. He did this all using nothing but found wood from the area of burial.
Below are the instructions to find the prize hidden as a part of this geohashing expedition.
Follow these instructions to find your prize. Take the steed with two quads north from the city of roses. Ride until you reach the pier with the red fish. Proceed to the back of the pier near the disc numbered 3. Your prize is on the bluff to the north, just south of the path, and to the northwest of a tree at N45 degrees 36.307 minutes W122 degrees 45.322 minutes. The burial mound is marked with the Ø in PDØ, and the prize is in a shallow grave. Use the pictures to help guide your journey. Good luck, and hurry, this prize has been known to wander off on its own!
Sir Pinkleton: I sat at my desk, leaning back in my beat-up, rustic red chair. I hadn't had a job in weeks, and it showed in my lack of spirits, both alcoholic and feeling-wise. I leaned the bottle into the air, aching for the drop of drink left inside. Suddenly, my phone buzzed like a honeybee hive. I slowly leaned forward, my chair creaking in pain as it took the whole of my weight. Dropping my bottle with a clink on my desk, I picked up the phone and read the message. It was a dame, by the name of Pixie.
She asked if I was up for an adventure. I knew what she meant. I told her I'd be right over, and grabbed my coat and my old, trusty hat, with adventure on my mind and the last drop of booze on my breath. The skies were gray like the broadside of a battleship, but the shells had already fired to their shots. The ground was wet like a housewives hand towel and the air was crisp like a fine cigar. I quickly made my way through the crowds to the nearest metro and road into the shabbier part of town. my edge of the town was shabby, but where we were going, shabby gained a new name.
Pixie: I emailed Sir P a few days ago with clues and asked if he cared to join me. He said sure. We met up.
Sir Pinkleton: The train screeched to a slow halt at Pioneer square. I stepped out with the crowd, keeping a low profile, and headed to the corner that we agreed to meet at. The dull red bricks that made up the ground reminded me of my youth. Back then, I was a mere cubscout, who had no volitions of becoming a private eye. In this memory, I recalled rallying my friends to take a pile of bricks we had at my house and breaking them all. There wasn't any good reason, but we were kids. Us kids liked to break things. Ah, children..
When suddenly, a low rumble crashed in the distance. Was it a plane? was it thunder? I took it as a sign to keep my head out of the clouds, lest I get... Shocked.
I saw her come from afar. She had a large trench coat, made for a fella two sizes larger than her. She glanced at me, but walked forward as if she didn't notice me. I'd seen this act before. I leaned on my side, waiting for her to crawl her way up to me. She briefly looked around, then spoke to me. "Are you detective Pinkleton?" she asked in a hushed whisper. "That's right ma'am," I answered, "private eye Pinkleton. You can put away the stealthy act, you weren't followed." "How do you know that?" she asked, her voice wavering.
"Let's just say I'm experienced. Now, what are the details of the case?" She handed me a portfolio, thin. I opened it up, which made her quickly glance around. I ignored her, and viewed the file. It was the riddle, with a bunch of pictures. I browsed it quickly, trying not to focus too much on the details, but just the big picture. I knew that I needed to contact my brother.
I led Ms. Pixie with me to a nearby phonebooth and dialed my brother, Luigi. The phone clattered against my head like a soccerball bouncing down a chimney as it rang once... twice... three times, before my brother picked it up. "Luigi, this is your brother, Pinkleton. Listen, I need to run some numbers through you about some strangely accurate co-ordinates." "Sure things, chief," he replied cheerfully. He worked for the local bakery, but had plenty of downtime, and plenty of books. He had taken up mapmaking as well, which always came in handy for situations like this. We talked, and he eventually told me that the tree in the riddle was in the northern path of a "Pier Park." I had never been, but I could only assume the worst. I clattered the phone down, and looked at Pixie. "We'll need to get on a bus, come on," and we shuffled over to a nearby bus stop.
Pixie: I skipped up to him and hugged him. We proceeded to catch a bus.
Sir Pinkleton: The bus ride was a quiet one. Pixie kept her head low and her lips closed. "Hey, toots, lighten up, will yah?" I asked, trying to brighten her sulky mood. "We're not going out to dig up a dead body, right? This case is simple."
She looked up at me and gave a weak smile. "Well no, of course not Mr. Pinkleton, but this whole situation has me flustered. Why would someone send me such a convoluted message? I can't make heads or tails of it myself." I chuckled. "That's why I have this job, ma'am," and we were silent the rest of the trip.
Pixie: It was an awesome bus ride! We had a ton of catching up to do, being that we hadn't seen each-other in months.
Sir Pinkleton: We stepped off of the bus, myself first followed by the dame. I held out my arm to help her down: she grabbed it, and held on. "Pinkleton, I'm scared," she said, looking around. "Hey, hey, easy, everything will be fine. We'll find thisspot, dig up this thing of yours, and be home before you can say candied pecans, alright?" She looked up at me, grinning slightly, but gratefully. "Is that pronounced pe-cans? or pe-cons?" I simply smiled, and walked forward. "That's what I meant by 'before you can candied pecans.'"
I kept my eyes straight. I usually go to these crime scenes alone, but Pixie insisted on the phone earlier that she needed to see it as soon as I had found it. The clouds grew darker overhead as we approached the dark forest they called a park. Rounding the hedge that nearly surrounded it, it looked as though there weren't many bushes in this park. Just lots of tree trunks that grew into tall trees. That meant little cover, good news and
bad news. I kept my eyes sharp and headed to where my brother had told me where to go.
Pixie: We wandered from the stop, toward the park in a lovely leisurely way. We proceeded to wander though the woods, Sir P occasionally checking his GPS telling us to go north, or west. It was one of the nicest walks i've had in awhile
Sir Pinkleton: Then, on a small path, up a small hill, in a little shadow, we were there, we just didn't know it yet. "It's somewhere around here, we just have to find it..." I said more to myself than to Pixie. I crouched down towards the sticks and pine needle covered ground, looking for clues. My detective senses were telling me something was up, but I couldn't place it. Suddenly, the spot hit me like a freight train would hit a cow with a 5 gallons of water on top of it. "PD0" I said to myself, grinning with victory. I grabbed a large stick nearby and started to carve away at the soft ground. Pixie stood nearby on the path, trying to look over my shoulder. "What is it? What is it?"
Pixie: We literally were standing on in when we discovered it. The sticks spelled PD0 as promised
Sir Pinkleton: I stood up,stiff as the trees around me. The package was both a letter, and a metal container. The letter was merely a fake return address and a date of arrival. the metal container was what shook me like and angry drunk slings around his beer bottle. 'Smart putty, Oil spill'. It quickly dawned on me. This was what BP had been working on. The gulf of Mexico wasn't a mistake, but a warning. The package bounced lightly in my hand like a bouncing bean, as if it knew how curious I was to look inside. "Pixie... do you know who sent you this package?"
"Oh... a friend from Germany. Why?" she asked, as though she didn't know. "Germans, eh..." I said to myself and turned around slowly. "Why would a German want you to have this?" I said, holding up the canister as it bounced lightly in my hand. Her eyes went wide, but we were interrupted by a gunshot. Splinters flew from the tree I was standing next to like spears flung from aborigine's. "Get down!" I yelled, as I ran to pixie and pushed her behind a tree with me. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my trusty colt .45. This gun had saved me from too many bad situations, and I was hoping it had one more grace left in it. Pixie was trembling in fear, looking around rapidly. She started rambling too quickly. "What's happening? Who are they? What's in that canister!?" I ignored her questions and handed her the package. She looked confusedly at it, and then at me. I cocked by my gun, and looking at her from the side of my brim, I told her, "You owe me a new hat," and went out from cover, bullets flying.
Pixie: We unburied the treasure, i contained the substance in question successfully and started my jaunt home. I have no idea if Sir P made it out alive. I guess we'll have to watch to see if he logs in again. But it was a good day.