Sample Elimination Description
When you eliminate someone or are eliminated, feel free to submit a description to the Overlords. There will be prizes for the best descriptions; see below for examples. You may format said description as you please.
NOTE THAT THESE DESCRIPTIONS ARE FROM 2013, WHEN THE PLAYERS WERE OPERATING UNDER DIFFERENT RULES. MONROE STREET IS OFF LIMITS.
From the 2013 winner, Josh Garcia:
Log:
10.31.2010, JB makes fun of my halloween outfit at Gilbert's party. Insists I'm a mexican. I'm not a mexican. I want to stab him.
10.31.2010, I realize JB's joking. Endeared. Somewhat.
11.2.2011, JB makes a good joke in the commons. I like his sense of humor. He is my friend.
2.4.2013, JB is not going to play spoons. I believe him.
3.18.2013, JB is in spoons. Fucking liar. I want to spoon him.
3.21.2013, JB has some kills. I have some kills. JB jokes about befriending someone, giving her a ride and turning towards the law school. JB jokes about thwacking while in the car on Monroe. I text Clark this suggestion. He lols. I lol back. We all have a laugh.
3.24.2013, JB keeps joking that he has me. I bet he does. He probably has me. No matter. I always hold my spoon. Always.
3.25.2013, Och insists that JB and her had a fight a while back. I do not press for details. I suspect lies.
3.26.2013, Maybe I should befriend JB. Clark is not playing this game. I will have no allies. Only Och. Such a good spy.
3.28.2013, I am drunk. At Origins. I call JB. Let's be friends. He seems wary. I tell him my target. I do not ask for his. I want to ease into this.
3.30.2013, JB reveals his target to me. Trust building.
4.4.2013, I send JB my list. I ask for nothing in return.
4.6.2013, JB sends me his list. Trust secured.
4.9.2013, I drive JB to school and point out a target. Later in the day, I do the same thing. And later in the day, I plan out a thwack for him, and wait as he executes. He is my muscleman. I can't find my target. I have to resort to trickery to find them.
4.10.2013, We take out some more people. Comrades in arms. Just like that.
4.11.2013, Terrill is out. JB is in car. I get Ari.
4.11.2013, I meet JB in car, surge of victory. I turn towards Hill, towards his home. I turn up State, towards law school. He doesn't notice. Still the talk of victory. He puts the spoon on my dashboard. My name on the spoon. I turn onto Monroe. He fumbles. He has too many spoons. He forgets about the dash. I smile at him. I am always holding my spoon. Always. I slow down the car. On Monroe. On law school grounds. Thwack.
Game over.
I’m not sure Josh and I ever fully trusted each other, but as our spreadsheets filled in and information leaked through Liz Och and other sources close to the Commissioners, we became relatively certain that we didn’t have each other. After Black Thursday slaughtered some deadweight, we decided it was time to start mopping up.
We lived in his car, and basically didn’t sleep. We IDed targets for each other and drove each other right up to them. Tuck 'n roll. Thwack. We gathered photos and intel, followed people, lied to people. When Josh sent an email to lolopen asking for information on Dante Roldan, it so distorted Terrill’s chain of Spooners that I don’t think anyone but Josh and I had an accurate list until yesterday. Thus, Rob White’s surprise: “Who are you?” And when I told him: “Ah, Terrill’s got it all fucked up!”
“This is how you win Spoons, James,” Josh would often say to me when we found ourselves doing something ethically questionable* or running just a little too much of a risk. Little did I know this was how Josh, not James, wins Spoons. Of course, by the end we knew too much about each other. I spent more time with Josh this past week than he spent with his girlfriend. We walked each other to classes. (Which of course meant Josh now knew where my classes were, sly devil.) What’s more, we had shared our best schemes with each other.
“You know what would be hilarious?” I remember telling him once. “Now that Monroe St. is in bounds, you get someone in your car, thinking they’re going to Costco or whatever, and then drive them between Hutchins and South Hall and boop! Thwacked.”
Is it a failing or weakness to trust someone, especially someone you’ve worked so closely with?** Thinking we were headed to celebrate, I let my guard down for the first time since this all began. Then he started to turn the wheel. I thought about grabbing the wheel and slamming my foot on the gas. We’d both be dead, and then no one would win! But it was too late. In the time it took me to form and reject my suicide plan, I'd been spooned to death. No explosion, but I’d been burned. Hard.
But I can’t help but think that I’m the real winner here.*** In death I reject the active/passive paradigm, the one that would have us believe that the Spooner is somehow better than the Spoonee, that there is pride in spooning, but not in being spooned. Sometimes I want to be little spoon, and I think that’s ok.
*Read: obviously morally and ethically wrong.
**Yes. Obviously.
***Except for the irreparable damage done to my ability to trust anyone. Ever. Oh, and the part where I lost at spoons.