Kill Confirmed: Lessons in Carleton's Assassins Game
Romance. Tragedy. Explosives. Another weekend in Carleton's legendary Assassins tournament, and another batch of would-be killers has been whittled down. The last two days alone have seen more casualties than most full games.
Saturday's action kicked off in Sayles, where a case of mistaken identity nearly ended in collateral damage. A player drew wrapped an improvised mask around his head and snuck into the computer lab, taking two clean shots at a target's cervical vertebrae. The only problem: nobody was there. The victim was a ghost—or, more precisely, a hallucination. The actual casualty was an iMac, left smoldering on a desk.
The real eliminations had already happened. A partner had walked straight into an unlocked Musser double and shot both occupants.
"I'm pretty sure you can't do that," one of them said.
Her reply was swift: "Would you like to call my roommate, the guildmistress? We can validate the kills right now, if you'd like."
That confidence was short-lived. Moments later, returning from the restroom just a few feet from her door, she was ambushed. Her final communiqué offered only a cryptic clue: "They're the men with the golden guns."
A Public Spectacle in the Dining Hall
Revenge required reconnaissance, and Division Street was the place to find it. A stalkernet photo identified Garrett Miller, spotted sitting with his recently eliminated partner in the LDC. The play required patience, crowd awareness, and a concrete support beam for cover.
After vaulting a dividing wall and landing in a crouch—which drew applause from half the dining hall—the assassin advanced to within ten feet of the target's table. The finale was theatrical: rising up, jumping onto the table, and diving at Miller with a pistol blazing and a knife ready. Miller never moved, just stared up in astonishment.
The remaining targets were more daunting. Corey and Nathan were a formidable pair. Nathan was the only player who had ever outrun our narrator. Corey's legend involved jumping out a second-story window when trapped, gathering friends, and returning up the stairs to eliminate his attackers. None survived.
Sometimes the direct approach isn't viable. For Nathan, a stealthier tactic worked: a visit to his roommate's unlocked lounge, and a gift left under the bed. A quarter-kilogram of cyclotrimethylene-trinitramine turned Watson 410 into an oven preheated to "conflagration" at precisely 3:14 and 15 seconds that morning.
That left only Corey, and fate forced the issue. Walking up the stairs into Musser, the assassin ran straight into him.
"Hi Corey!"
Then kept walking, silently cursing the missed opportunity as Corey bolted into his room and locked the door. Patience paid off, though. Minutes later, Corey stood in the lounge by the sink, talking to residents, unaware.
The Final Shot
Acting on blind reflex, both pistols came out and eight rounds emptied into the room. Corey never raised his Nerf pistol in time. The floormates were the first to react.
"Corey, you died!"
The kill was confirmed. Sometimes the best intel comes from knowing which hallways hold the action—and which targets won't see you coming.
