fandomhigh | Entries tagged with problem solving

Anakin was a cat, again, and Ahsoka was looking far too pleased with herself, again, as she had the class meet in the park, which was seemingly clear of anything too out of the ordinary...for Fandom at least. There was the shed of random shenanigans tools.

"I believe that Anakin set this week's homework as the most shiny thing," she said. "In this case we'll judge shiniest as whatever catches Master Skywalker's interest the most."

After Anakitty had made a through inspection of the various offerings, and anyone who'd been so inclined had captured sufficient blackmail material on their phones. Ahsoka continued.

"Today's task is to rescue a cat from a tree," Ahsoka said, unrolling a "missing cat" siign with a photo of a toy cat that looked nigh identical to Anakitty. "Points will be given for speed of rescue and bonus points for the likelihood of the cat surviving the rescue."

sith_happened

Why did the classroom look like a cheap Italian restaurant? Why was there a miniature giraffe in a scarf in the corner? Excellent questions, both! Your teachers would explain it later.

"Hello, everyone," Anakin said.

"Today s all about hidden layers." It was not, but Ahsoka had learned to spin a line of bantha poodoo with the best of them. "So we may as well judge your homework first off."

Anakin nodded. "Yes, show us your costumes."

The costumes that you had remembered to wear, right?

Of course they had! They were conscientious students! Probably.

"And now onto the second part," Anakin said. "You are going to create chemistry on a first date."

Which...sort of explained the restaurant set up.

Feel free to start having a bad feeling about this. "Working in teams, you will relay instructions to your single on what to say and how to act. We will be judging which team had the best first date."

Feel free to start having a really bad feeling about this.

"Earl the miniature giraffe is looking for love," Anakin said like that was a normal thing to say. "His date, Tiny, will be here soon."

sith_happened

When the students came in, they were greeted by table and chair with a pizza box (sadly empty), and a strange object sitting on it.

"Good morning, everyone," Anakin said. "I am still not a cat!"

Congratulations, Anakin.

"There are also far fewer cats involved in this week's class," Ahsoka remarked, almost regretfully.

Anakin looked smug. "Yes, there are." Unless someone brought in a cat as a satisfying thing to touch.

Let's be real, there was a non-zero chance someone had. Speaking off, it was time to touch all the things that had been brought in.

"Homework first and then we will explain the pizza box," Anakin said. Well. Sort of explain it.

If you ever felt you knew less by the time these classes ended than when they started, it was possibly entirely by design.

Once all the things had been touched and judged. Ahsoka continued "Your task today is to order a pizza."

"Yes," Anakin said, eyes twinkling. "Using that phone, order an extra large vegetarian pizza with pepperoni and bacon, and without tomato and cheese. You may not use the following words: extra; large; vegetarian; pizza; pepperoni; bacon; tomato; or cheese."

"You will also receive a bonus point if you can get the person taking your call to say ''bubbles," Ahsoka added.

sith_happened

Good news, class! Anakin was not a cat today!

Bad news, class! You now have to present him with amazing cat toys anyway!

However your cat toys were being judged by Ahsoka, so you weren't all going to come equal last (however much Anakin wished you would).

"Welcome back," Anakin said, not looking thrilled to be there. "Please show Ahsoka your homework."

"I'm sure you all picked worthy offerings," Ahsoka said, looking for too pleased with herself.

Anakin shot her a baleful look, which was still a strangely cat-like expression.

Good thing Ahsoka had practice ignoring that look!

A decade of it, even!

"And then we'll get to your real task."

Also cat-themed! Completely coincidentally, no doubt.

Utterly coincidental. That was Ahsoka's story and she was sticking to it.

Once she'd finished judging the cat toys, she led that class outside one by one to where a large number of small red bags were laid out in a pattern. One that if they happened to get to a high enough viewpoint looked a lot like this.

"You need to let the cat out of the bag," she told them. "Fewest attempts wins."

"Hilarious," Anakin said dryly.

snipsnspecks

As had been the case last session, there were two elaborate gold coloured chairs at the front of the classroom. Unlike last session, there was a very grumpy looking cat in the larger chair.

"Welcome to class," a decidedly non feline Ahsoka greeted them. "Master Skywalker is indisposed right now, but we won't let that get in the way of our first class.

"Now, those you who were in our previous class were given some homework to do over the break, Namely to find the saddest thing to do in a midlife crisis. for the sake of those who are new this session," And for everyone who just hadn't done it. "You'll have ten minutes to come up with something before presenting your homework with the rest of the class."

After everyone had ~~made up~~ presented their homework, Ahsoka continued. "The first class in usually for introductions, so what better way to introduce yourselves than by coming up with a mantra to live life by, the most original mantra wins."

snipsnspecks

There was a stage and microphone set up in the classroom today. It was probably nothing to worry about.

Of course not! These teachers were known for how normal and boring their classes were.

"Before we get to that," Anakin said, "you need to show us what you've brought from other people's houses today."

Once Anakin had judged their taste and possibly their life choices, Ahsoka continued. "Your task today is to improvise a love song to Anakin," she said, somehow with a straight face. "We will provide a backing track and there will be a bonus for the best lyrics."

Anakin blinked. "Wait. What?"

"That's what the task says," Ahsoka replied, passing him the clipboard.

"I don't remember this task," Anakin said.

"Have you been bitten by a gremlin recently?"

"No," Anakin said, frowning.

Ahsoka shrugged. "You must have just forgotten, then."

Anakin looked less convinced. "Maybe." He shrugged. "Maybe they'll be good at this."

Maybe.

sith_happened

Your teachers looked much less horrifically hungover this morning, so good job to Anakin and Ahsoka. "Good morning, everyone," Anakin began. "I trust your weekends were filled with brooding about your fathers or father-figures."

He'd been in Fandom a long time.

"Hopefully your homework helped distract from that," Ahsoka said with a dryness that made it clear she had not expected it to.

"Whoops," Anakin said, not looking or sounding sorry.

After Anakin had learnt his lesson from the quality of the things he was given for their homework (let's be real, he never would), Ahsoka continued, "Today's task will be helpful for those of you interested in a future in politics. Because it's going to be slightly less frustrating."

Anakin nodded. "Get all of the banana into the bottle," he said, pointing to the eight tables and the objects on them: a green wine bottle with a stopper attached with a combination lock, and a banana. "You cannot break the bottle. The bottle cannot leave the table. The fastest person to get all of the banana into the bottle wins."

The banana, they didn't mention, was frozen, and the bottle was filled with Jello. Good thing there was a closet filled with moddable objects on the other side of the classroom, right?

"Your time starts now."

sith_happened

Anakin and Ahsoka were standing in front of a roofless L-shaped building made of concrete. It had two low doorways on either end of the structure.

"Before we explain what we're standing in front of," Anakin began, "we want to see the art you obviously spent all week creating for us."

"I'm sure you've all done your best." For someone who looked serene, Ahsoka had a definite vibe of glee about her today.

"Even if your best is very bad," Anakin said, nodding. "Let's see what you've brought."

Once Anakin had very judgily judged everyone's art, Ahsoka extended her hand towards the nearest entrance to the, let's be real, it was a bunker. "If you would be so kind as to enter this structure here to receive your task."

Anakin read aloud: "Avoid getting wet by Ahsoka. You must remain inside the bunker. Ahsoka is outside the bunker and can't step inside. Longest to avoid getting wet wins. You have twenty minutes. Your time starts after Ahsoka gives an example of what she is capable of."

Ahsoka sent a water balloon arcing gracefully through the air and over the wall. Directly towards Cal. Sorry, Cal.

"Sorry, Cal," Anakin said with nothing like sincerity. "The rest of you should probably move."

More water balloons started to come over the wall as Ahsoka started jogging around the outside of the bunker.

sith_happened

The classroom smelled delicious today. This possibly had something to do the large table set off to one side with a drop sheet covering a large stack of...something.

"Good morning," Anakin said with a slightly evil smile. "Welcome back to class. I am already looking forward to your egg photos."

No, you couldn't hear the Imperial March playing softly, that would be silly.

Once judgement had been passed on the photos and all the rules lawyering had wound up, Ahsoka pulled the drop cloth off the table with the Force, revealing several dozen pizza boxes.

More worrisomely, the pizza boxes had oven mitts with chopsticks attached to them stacked neatly next to them. There were enough chairs for everyone to sit and...deal with whatever problem this was.

Ahsoka cleared her throat and started reading off her clipboard. "Your task is to de-pineapple the pizzas while wearing your chopstick gloves, placing the pineapple in the bowls. At the end of the task your pineapple will be juiced and most juice wins. You may politely ask for a new pizza. In Italian." You all knew Italian, right? "You have three minutes from when I blow my whistle."

sith_happened

Anakin and Ahsoka were standing in front of eight tables, each of which held a bunch of bananas, a cutting board, and--worryingly--duct tape, masking tape, a stapler and a glue stick. "Welcome to Creative Problem Solving," Anakin said.

"There's a saying that when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail," Ahsoka added. "Our plan is to teach you creative ways to use that hammer."

"And to think on your feet using what you have available," Anakin said like having these particular items would be a normal situation for some of them.

"Just remember there are no wrong answers in this class," Ahsoka said. "But we will be judging on how creatively you interpret our instructions while still staying within them."

"We'll do introductions as you explain your creations," Anakin said. "Make the biggest and best banana using only the supplies you have in front of you. You have 120 seconds, after which Ahsoka and I will judge you." The creations, right, Anakin? Not the participants?

The creations, right?

"And after we're done judging, we'll give you homework," Anakin said. Because summer homework was the best!

wrongkindofsith

The usual tavern was cleared out to show a sort of wrestling platform. Only it was 8 sided. Because Magnus.

"NERF FIGHT!" Magnus shouted, raising a foam bat in lieu of, you know, a greeting.

"Six of you will enter, and, well, six of you will leave." Because they weren't actually going to make their students murder each other . "But only one will leave victorious."

Magnus beamed and smacked Cara in the arm with the bat. Half because he was nuts and half because she was his friiiieeeend.

And the power of friendship was pretty much the only reason why that earned Magnus an eyeroll instead of a more murderous response. "You have two minutes to gear up and get in the ring."

"May the odds be ever in your favor," Magnus added like a giant nerd.

wrongkindofsith

Class was in the Danger Shop, because where else would it be.

"Technology professionals worldwide logo the informations," Cara said looking visibly annoyed, apparently the Danger Shop (or the island) was a bit glitchy today. "Punching bag of the day before the end of the mutiny."

"Sorry, things are a little... wonky?" Magnus said, looking deeply concerned. "For some reason we're 😕😡."

Okay, so now he was talking in emoji. That was cool.

Totally cool, you could tell by the way Cara's expression resembled the second emoji. "Picture information the face punching machine. Machine wash the car is still available for remote punch list items."

You got that she wanted you to punch things, right?

"🤳💔🗣," Magnus added. Because reasons beyond his understanding. Pretty sure it was a curse. He sighed and hit a button to release the glitchy robots for that class to punch.

Couldn't even muster up the enthusiasm for robotic arm ripping.

wrongkindofsith

There had been a ~~handwavey~~ note to the class, telling them to meet the super excited (well, one was on the inside) teachers at the movie theater in town.

"Movie day! Only a real movie. In a theater. Not that there's anything wrong with streaming," Magnus said. "But what's more fun than a dark, crowded room full of strangers?"

Just ignore Cara smirking, kids, it was probably just a trick of the light. "This film helps demonstrate our point that there is no problem that can't be solved by carefully applied punching."

"And saying no to the bad guys," Magnus added. "We got popcorn and soda for you all, so you can enjoy the movie without getting hangry."

"There's already plenty of fury in the movie." Cara thought she was hilarious.

wrongkindofsith

The movie projector was out, because your teachers were still recovering from break.

"So sometimes in order to solve your problems, you have to travel to the people who need punching," Cara said. "And that's a lot of effort." Trust her on that.

"It's an adventure," Magnus emphasized. "But most of us aren't puppets, so it's not as difficult. Or more difficult? Do puppets have fatigue?"

"Whichever makes them creepier." Puppets were extremely creepy.

Sorry, Beaker.

"Do they count as marionettes? Because I speak marionette, you know." Magnus, thar was possibly the most nonsensical thing to add.

"I think those need strings." To strangle you with, probably.

"Well, poop." Magnus sighed, popping in the VHS, poor quality copy of the selected movie.

Enjoy your creepy puppets, kids!

wrongkindofsith

The tavern was more dimly lit than usual and there were candles on the tables. Different candles. Expensive candles. Be afraid?

"So, Valentine's Day is around the corner. Which is, apparently, also something we celebrate back home," Magnus said. "So, we're gonna help you woo that lady, guy, or non-gendered individual of your dreams."

"With punching." Cara, no.

"Only after both of you are on the same page about that," Magnus added. "Because otherwise you're just a jerk."

"Well, obviously," Cara agreed. "But it works better for some people than all those flowery words." Like her. Never mind it'd taken an entire alternate universe for her to make a move.

"And they say, the couple that gets into barfights together, stays together," Magnus said cheerfully. "So, partner up to practice."

wrongkindofsith

The class was again in a tavern. It was possible that they got the program stuck and were just gonna go with it rather than be bothered. But there was a little dry erase board with 'Avoiding dumb people with opinions' written on it. Which, honestly, could take place in a bar.

"Sometimes people are just dumb and mean and should probably just not talk in public," Magnus said. "Like anyone who gets mad about razors. Unless those razors killed their parents or tried to shave off their beloved sideburns or something."

That was a very specific scenario. "Sometimes these opinions go beyond annoying and wrong, like anything Tino ever says about anything, and actually hurt people." Every Mord'Sith learnt that sticks and stones might break bones, but words were what broke people.

"So, you know. Jerks. Mean, mean jerks," Magnus said. Because cussing was for goofs, not for calling someone an asshole. They didn't even deserve that much consideration. "So, we're gonna go with the right way to deal with these people!"

Spoiler: It was with punching. Because that was the solution to everything with these two.

"There are people in this tavern with extremely wrong opinions who must be stopped from sharing them." With punching.

"We got most of them from Twitter," Magnus added cheerfully.

So they'd know they were all stupid. "Why does that website even exist?" Her life was so much better before she knew the internet existed.

Magnus gave her a sad pat on the arm. "The internet was a mistake."

Clearly they should punch the internet next.

wrongkindofsith

The danger shop was set up to look like ye older tavern that your teachers might look more at home in, with a good number of NPC patrons milling about.

"Hail and well met, students!" Magnus said, picking up one of the chairs. Maybe to inspect the make of it.

Cara also picked up a chair, definitely not to examine the fine carpentry. "Normally this is where there'd be introductions." Because she'd been here for far too many first weeks by now. "But that's kind of boring."

Most people didn't react to boredom by flinging a chair into a packed crowd of very surly looking NPCs (including NPCakin, oh how we'd missed you and your terrible hair), Cara.

"Bar fight!" Magnus cheered, immediately changing his grip on the chair to use as a weapon. With bonuses because carpenter/fighter.

Aw yeah.

Cara might have pointed out that none of the class should've been surprised by this. Not even the newbies, the class description had not been subtle. But she'd flung herself after her chair by now.

Have fun kids.

whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com

[Class the Last: The Final Job]

Welcome to the S.S. Ridiculous! A steampunk-inspired airship, hanging out over… well, hard to say, but that city down below looks fairly dystopic.

“Final time!” Parker sang out. She grinned and pointed at the deck, full of barrels, red crystals reflecting light beams, a very high rigging, and some loose ropes. “Time to escape!”

Eliot . . . looked resigned. "This is all Parker's idea. Just be glad there's no crocodiles."

A group of odd, clunking robots came marching out of one of the doors.

"Okay, those mighta been my idea," Eliot admitted with a faint smirk.

“I like them.” Parker nodded approvingly. “So yes, get off the ship, and there’s cake! … varieties of cake.”

Welcome to your Final. Think of it as practice for the Graduation ceremony.

whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com

"We're wiped out. We were dealing with children smaller than you all week." Parker was wearing pajamas with flying pigs. Appropriately.

Eliot: was not wearing pajamas. Just some very comfy clothes. ". . . weekend. It just seemed like a week."

"That. Right." So they hadn't remembered they'd had a class to teach until very, very recently.

"So I'm sure some of you have had someone tell you that they hope someday you have a kid just like you so you know what it feels like. And some of you probably found out what that feels like this weekend." Eliot was looking a little haggard around the edges. "So today. . . . Nap. Draw quietly. Play with legos. Do yoga. Whatever you do to relax and recover."

Parker got an obstinate expression. "There's cartoons. I'm watching cartoons." She added, "If you want more of a class, create it and solve the problem yourself."

vdistinctive

The Danger Shop was set up like a little carnival today, complete with lots of big spinny rides and buildings full of mirrors and twisty hallways and disconcerting smells. Eliot and Parker waited for the kids by the entrance. Eliot was eyeing one of the rides suspiciously, but looked away as the students started to enter. He held a large brindle labrador puppy on a leash. The puppy bounced excitedly around his legs, tail going so fast it was practically a propeller.

"Welcome back," he said. "Hope everyone had a good weekend, whether you went camping or not."

“It’s a carnival day! You don’t have to fight anything,” Parker told them. “Unless you really want to punch a clown. I can understand that.” She bent down to pet Val. “Instead, we’ve got a find-a-treasure-hunt.”

Val yipped and play-bowed, staring up at Parker excitedly. She was a puppy. Her default mode was excited.

"The treasure, in this case, bein' this here girl," Eliot said, leaning down to unhook Val from her leash. "She gets a head start." Val froze when the leash was disengaged, looking up at Eliot. He nodded to her and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Val, git."

She dashed off with another yip and disappeared around a corner by the shooting gallery.

Parker grinned. “You have to find the puppy and bring her back to us. She’s a sweetie, so you won’t have to hurt her, just maybe… herd her.” She paused and added, “Don’t feed her anything with chocolate.”

Oh god, how did Parker talk him into this? Simulated cotton candy wouldn't give his dog a stomach ache, would it?

"She ain't real good at coming when you call yet," Eliot said, not letting his anxiety show on his face. "And she loves playin' hide and seek." He rolled his shoulders and gave the ride he'd been eyeing another look. "Careful around the rides. I mean -- I know there's safeties and all, but --"

Look, you got hit in the face with one of those things once and you got leery.

“Megabyte loves everybody. So have fun, guys!”

"That ain't her --" Eliot cut himself off with a groan. "Just -- go look for her."

vdistinctive

Class today met in a completely padded room. Not, like, a mental ward padded room, just a big gymnasium type room with mats glued to the walls and floors (and ceiling). Scattered all over were pillows of varying sizes, from little goofy throw pillows to giant feather mattresses. They came in all sorts of shapes as well as sizes, from simple squares to fluffy hippos.

Eliot stood in the midst of the whole thing with a bear shaped pillow in a casual choke hold. "I, uh. Wanted to apologize for not bein' in class, last week," he said. "And -- bein' kind of an ass before that."

Parker was standing next to him, hugging one of those purple hippos pillows. “And he means it.” She gave a vehement nod. “Anyway. He’s still getting better, and so are some of you, and we didn’t really have a lot of time to come up with a class. So, pillows!”

"Beat 'em up," Eliot said. "Scream into 'em. Take a nap. We can program some with Gaunt's face on them if you wanted to punch him in the face and didn't get the chance." Eliot may have done some of that before class, yes. Only it wasn't a pillow with his face on it. "Have a damn pillow fight, go nuts."

Parker’s eyes lit up. “Pillow fort!!.. oh, and today is Taco Tuesday. I guess.”

whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com

[Class #10: The Insecure Job]

“This week we’re doing something a little different: working on making your own stuff safe.” Parker was maintaining a strategic distance from Eliot, because if she didn’t, she’d start checking him over for evidence of alien overlords, and that could get violent. “You can go high-tech, with lasers, and safes, and hidden compartments…”

Eliot was pretending not to notice Parker keeping away from him. He wasn't doing a very good job. He stood stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched, occasionally shooting glances at her. "Or you can keep it simple," he said. "Low tech, easy to maintain, hard to hack. A couple basic snares and traps, let anyone going after your stuff know you mean business."

Parker didn’t look at him but her tone was pointed. “Of course, you want to be able to discourage people. But not get them hurt. That could get you sued, or worse, put in jail. And some people will be skilled or strong enough to get out of that kind of thing.”

"And some people are skilled and strong enough to get past the damn lasers and safes," Eliot said, tone about as pointy as it got. "Ain't a damn single thief these days who goes into an apartment expecting a bear trap."

Which made no counter point at all to the whole "getting someone hurt" thing. Eliot was currently perfectly okay with that part.

The expression Parker made at that was her usual ‘you people are insane’ only dialed up to eleven. “Okay! So. Take a look at the security displays here…” A wave to the left at the high-tech, a wave to the right, at the kludge-and-blood-worthy. “...and figure out what works for you.” A pause. “No maiming inside the classroom.” Just deal with that, Eliot.

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Ain't even like you could maim someone in here." For once he actually looked put out by that fact. "So just calm the hell down already, Parker."

The death-glare Parker shot him for that would have done well at taking down a small moon, or a Rebel base.

“Get started, people.”

[ocd is up!]

vdistinctive

[class #9: The Go(odie) Bag Job]

The class met in what looked like a perfectly normal classroom this week -- though it was still the Danger Shop. The room was lined on all sides with tables covered in a very large variety of items, everything from basic first aid supplies to piles of generic clothing to what would look to be on first examination a stack of blank passports from various countries around Earth (and would turn out on closer inspection to be -- a stack of blank passports from various countries around Earth. Yeah). The table closest to the door had a large variety of bags on it, from large purses to backpacks to duffel bags to rolling bags. The teachers sat at the back of the room at a final, empty table. The middle of the room was empty, with plenty of room for the students to stand.

They won't have seen Eliot look quite so relaxed, before. It was possible that Parker hadn't seen Eliot look quite so relaxed, before. He was leaning back in his chair, tilted precariously on its back legs, his feet up on the table, idly spinning a small black claw on a cord around his neck. When the students started filing in, he looked up and waved with a smile, then went back to fiddling with the necklace.

Parker was shooting Eliot random looks of confusion, because when did he go all zen? Was he planning on killing someone without telling her? Had he discovered a new spice? Did someone drug him? Anyway. “Hi guys. This week, we’re talking go-bags.” She pointed around the room. “What do you take with you when you have to go on a sudden trip? A trip you might not come back from? Or when the apocalypse happens?” She figured some of the kids at least might have to deal with that concept back home. “You should always be prepared. Like those scouts.”

"She means Boy Scouts," Eliot said, without sitting up. "We've got bags for you to choose from, and a wide-range of supplies. My advice: pack light. A bar of soap, a change of clothes, and a good knife will get you plenty far and won't weigh you down when you have to run."

“But maybe you need something special. If you’re not sure what something is, ask me. You don’t want to be like our friend Maggie.” Parker made a sad face. “She would have mixed up the plastic explosives with the toothpaste.”

"None of the explosives'll work outside this room," Eliot told them. Because of course they had tubes of plastic explosives in here. "They're samples only. Same with the weaponry. If you can get your hands on something you can use outsida here, though, they can be useful."

“Now. Make like you’re equipping for time in Antarctica! Or maybe just Texas.” Parker beamed, shooing at them with her fingers. Then she leaned over to poke Eliot in the neck to see if he would react.

Eliot grabbed her by the wrist, face going blank as he squeezed -- then let go and shot her a raised eyebrow. "When you're done," he told the class, a slight edge to his voice. "We've got cookies."

whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com

[Class #8: The Prairie Dog Maze Job!]

“Welcome back! I hope you guys had as much fun as we did on break.” Parker was looking manically pleased with herself about that job. “And I hope you didn't get arrested in Mexico.”

"Though if you did, you clearly got back out," Eliot said with a shrug. "So see it as a learnin' experience."

Parker had to nod in agreement on that point, then went on, gesturing to this week’s Danger Shop set-up: what looked like a high-tech cubicle farm, with people working on computers and phones, ignoring the newcomers, except to pop a head over a divider every once in a while. Floor-to-ceiling windows comprised two walls, and there were clearly marked exits.

“Your job is to get out of this building. It’s 55 stories, and the elevators may not work for you. You aren't suppose to be here. Also, there are security guys roaming around, and they've been told to hang onto anyone who isn't cleared. Those exits? Go to other rooms like this one. So you better be able to remember where you've been before.”

"Basically," Eliot said, looking juuuuust a little too pleased with himself. "It's a giant maze. That really wants to put you in jail."

“So! Pair up, or triple up, or go it on your own, and try to get out.” Parker beamed at them all. “Do it with computers, do it with smarts, do it with punching people. There’s popcorn of all kinds once you get out, so you can watch other people try.”

vdistinctive

The Danger Shop this week was set up as a go-cart course, complete with complicated turns and loads of tiny little two-seater cars. A set of stands lined the straight away to the finish line, on which were set up a couple tables full of classic comfort food. Eliot stood by the cars, a checkered flag sticking out of his back pocket, and stared resolutely at the ceiling.

"Hey," he said. "We're doing cars this week." He shrugged. "Creatively."

“Smash them together! Smash them into barriers! Jump each other!” Parker paused. “With the cars! Not your bodies. That is Not Happening Here.”

Which didn’t rule it out happening somewhere else, probably.

“Work out your frustration!”

"Or pair up, pick a car, and park it somewhere," Eliot said. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a shady little make-out point off to the side. "Work out your frustrations that way."

What? It's what teenage him would've done.

"That's making out," he said. "Kissing. Maybe second base. No nudity in class."

“It’s a safety issue,” Parker said very seriously. “Also, it might be gross. We don’t know. And we don’t wanna know.”

Eliot closed his eyes and winced. "That's not -- we know what -- okay, you know what, just -- drive. Or not. Eat food. Or don't. Whatever."

whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com

[Class #6 - the Beatdown Job!]

“This is Eliot’s week for doing lots of stuff,” Parker said to everyone as they walked in. “He’s the best at it.”

The students could be forgiven for thinking this meant the food: the setting was a swank banquet in the courtyard of a museum, with tables of food in individually heated trays on one side, punch bowls full of icy lemonade, and huge platters of hors d'oeuvres. There were well-dressed guests, and staff circulating with trays of champagne.

Parker was wearing her blue cocktail dress, but Eliot was not dressed as a chef.

He could've been! Kitchens were rife with opportunities for his particular specialty. Of course, so were banquet halls. And bars. And street corners.

Honestly, when you could turn anything into a weapon, everywhere was rife with opportunity.

Eliot was keeping it simple this time, though, wearing his usual t-shirt and jeans combo, a beanie keeping his hair back off his face. He cracked his knuckles and then his neck and smiled at the class.

It was maybe a creepy smile.

"This week we're going to work on some of the more . . . physical sides of problem solving." Punching people totally solved problems, shut up. A group of four simulated security guards came out of the doors to the museum with guns trained on him and Parker. Eliot waited, looking almost bored, until they were within range.

Then he very quickly and very efficiently unarmed them and took them down. He looked back up at the students again as he tossed the last gun, emptied of its magazine, to the side. "Something like that."

Parker grinned, holding up a fork. “I just like to stab them. But you can use whatever you want! The food. The plates. The bottles. The people.” She pointed upward. “You want to get into the museum.”

Did they though? Really?

Guessing by the way the doors to the museum were opening again, this time discharging a crowd of unruly teenagers in letterman jackets, another group of professional security guards, and some really large, really ugly fantasy monster things, they might not, actually.

"You don't have to take out alla them," Eliot said, crossing his arms. "You do have to take out enough to get through the doors. And then you're welcome to the whole banquet! Assuming you guys haven't smashed all the food by then." He smiled again. "Have fun."

vdistinctive

The Danger Class was made up as a small, intimate, black box style theater. Eliot and Parker stood center stage, waiting for the students to file in.

Were they breaking into the ticket booth? Maybe pulling wallets from simulated audience members? Surely they were going to be asked to do something vaguely nefarious.

"Today we thought we'd give you guys a bit of a break," Eliot said. "Y'all been workin' pretty hard in here, so we're going to keep it simple and just do some basic improv."

“Partner up, pick someone, and then come up with a scenario.” Parker bounced on her toes. “The main goal is to keep going, no matter how complicated it gets. And not to start laughing, even if you want to. Like, Eliot is a fashion designer, and I’m a model. Or, you’ve just met someone through one of those dating sites, and you can’t let them know that you’re really a spy.” She grinned. “Improv and you get snacks!”

"We're -- we're not demonstrating," Eliot said. "Parker was just sayin' that as an example. You get stumped for ideas, ask her. She's got a million of 'em." Or ask Eliot. He could help with that, too. "We've got sandwiches when you're done. Fresh turkey, homemade aioli mayo, a little somethin' for any vegetarians. . . . They're very good sandwiches."

“Eliot once killed a guy over a sandwich,” Parker pointed out. Then considered. “And a different guy with an appetizer.” Food-related food for thought!

Eliot opened his mouth to rebut, then closed it again with a shrug. He didn't want to get into the habit of lying to the kids. "Get paired off and get started. Let's see what you guys got."

whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com

Today’s class had Parker grinning like she’d won the lottery, or better, stolen the lottery winner’s winnings.

“LASERS.” Her preeecious. She pointed to the two set-ups in the room: one a simple set of laser lines very close together (less than an inch apart or above the tiles that went across the floor), leading to a door; the other, a corner with moving lines going across all three dimensions, moving in a random pattern that made perfect sense if you were Parker. “Today we’re having you figure out either of these two set-ups, whatever’s easier for you, really, although I’ll tell you right now there’s better food behind the moving laser set-up.” She straightened. “Now, I don’t expect you to get this on your first try, or without some instruction, so pay careful attention, okay?”

Parker then proceeded to do this: ~~At least the bits without Hardison and Eliot~~

“Okay! Also, there are at least two, three other ways around this. That don’t involve going through the field.” Although why you’d do that when you could twist and turn your way through a laser field, Parker would never understand.

"You're welcome," Eliot said. Yeah, that was about all he'd managed to contribute to this class other than the food.

“These lasers are visible right now, so you know, remember: in real life you might have to spray them with aerosol to see them.” Parker clapped her hands. “OKAY LET’S GO!”

vdistinctive

The Danger Shop today was programmed to look like the courtyard in front of a large, swanky mansion, with four sets of elegant French doors closed on what looked like quite the elegant gala going on inside. Eliot stood with his arms crossed next to a fountain in the middle of the courtyard, nodding to the students as they came in.

Parker was wearing a cocktail dress. That was her only apparent concession to the venue; her hair wasn’t done, she wasn’t wearing jewelry. Or make-up. Or shoes.

“Today instead of busting out? You’re busting in. Although, you know, if you want to be subtle, you can do that too.”

"Behind us is the party of the year. Full of rich, influential people, good music, and some of the finest damn fondue you're gonna get outside of southern Europe." If Eliot did say so himself. "To get in, you gotta get past one of these four people." He hit a button and a simulated doorman appeared in front of each of the french doors. Two looked just like him, only in different outfits. Two looked just like Parker.

"How you do that is up to you. You could dress up and try to look all fancy and talk your way in. You could dress down an' tell 'em you're staff and talk your way in. You could distract 'em and sneak your way in. You could try fighting 'em." He smiled. "That's usually my favorite, but not usually for gettin' in."

Parker rolled her eyes at that. “Anyway, there are security guys around. I won’t say how many. So if you do decide to start a fight, it probably won’t finish up one-on-one. Have an exit plan!” She shook a finger at them. “Remember! Only people who can’t run go to jail for assault with a deadly weapon!”

Eliot frowned. "That is not a saying." Just so the kids understood that. "Parker just made that up."

Which wasn't saying it wasn't true.

whoisalicewhite.livejournal.com

Today, Parker was in black again. And looking very perky, outside a Danger Shop- created door.

“Something a little different from last week. There will not be cake. Sadly.”

Eliot tried not to facepalm in front of the students. This was going to be a Thing all semester, wasn't it. "Last week you all proved you're completely nuts," he said. "Except for Amy." STAIRS WERE A VALID LIFESTYLE CHOICE. "This week, we're going to see how you do getting out of a situation when you can't just leap off the side of a building."

Parker opened the door to reveal… a large storage closet. Paint buckets, a bookcase piled with tools of varying usefulness, and one small lit light-bulb were evident-- as was an air-duct with a small grate across it, just above head-height.

“We have enough closets for everybody. Or you can team up, and be locked in together. Object: get out of here before whoever put you in here comes back!”

"That's a simulated 'whoever'," Eliot noted. "We don't mean us." They weren't the bad guys in the class scenario. This time. "Once you're out, head for the room at the end of this hall." Eliot pointed to another closed, presumably locked door. "Where there will be something that isn't cake." You're welcome, Parker. "If you choose to team up, every person on the team has to make it, or you all fail."

“So don’t mess this up!... or stay in there just ‘cause it’s fun. I’m looking at some of you. You know who you are.” Or not.

vdistinctive

Class met in the Danger Shop, where Eliot had spent the entire night before attempting to learn to program. It may have involved phone calls to Hardison. And teasing him by pretending to not know what a "holodeck" was.

The result was the class meeting up on what looked like the roof of a 15 story building on a bright, cool day. The wind came from the south in short bursts, just hard enough to mess up your hair.

If you think that detail didn't have Eliot scowling and wishing he had a hair tie, think again.

Parker by comparison had her hair tucked up in a little leather beret. Some people knew how to prep.

“Okay! Welcome to Creative Problem Solving!” She beamed at the students. “I guess they usually make you introduce yourselves here, but that’s boring. So, what you have to do is, attach this safety line to your harness--” Both were held up in explanation. “Shout your name, then jump!” She paused. “Really, even if you mess it up, this place won’t let you die.”

So reassuring.

Eliot knew how to prep, dammit. He just really wasn't usually the one on the roof of the tower. Hell, he hadn't even let Parker get him into a harness in the last five years of working with her.

"You won't get injured, either," he said, arms folded over his chest as he tried to pretend his hair wasn't blowing into his face. "If you really, really can't handle jumping off a building --" you're in the wrong class "-- you can find some other way down. There's a window washing platform and stairs. The stairs are locked and the platform is two floors down." He smiled a little wolfishly. "So you'll have to get creative."

“You can work together! You can work alone! You can use your bodies!... not like that,” Parker added, making a vague gesture with her hands. Don’t ask. “Or tools. Or your brains. Or someone else’s tools or brains!” She grinned. “Anything counts as long as you wind up on the ground!” She paused and added thoughtfully, “And there might be evil security guards in the stairwell.”

Eliot frowned. "Parker, I didn't program any security guards." Evil or otherwise.

“Yeah, I know, how could you forget those?” Pfftt. “I put them in when I saw you forgot them.”

Eliot closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. He wasn't really looking forward to seeing what Parker thought 'evil security guards' should be like. "I'll stay up here to help out anyone who gets stuck." Or needs to be rescued from security guards. "Parker'll meet you downstairs with a treat." He was missing something. Oh, right: "I'm Eliot, by the way. That's Parker. We're teachers. Now get going."

thefearwasreal

The classroom looked completely ordinary today, so clearly this would be an easy final.

"Kids, the key to problem solving is to be prepared, for any situation. People might mock you for having a zombie plan, but it just might be the only thing saving your spicy brains-"

Which would be when the pirate-ninja-cyborg-velociraptors attacked, several of them dragging off Oz and leaving only fuzz and feathers in their wake. The remaining ones looked more than a touch cranky.

thefearwasreal

Oz's class was back in the Danger Shop again this week, but at least today it looked like a real classroom rather than a garishly coloured house.

Oz entered the Danger Shop, lugging a sack with him.

"You know, it occurred to me that despite the name of the class, we haven't done anything especially citrus related yet, and time is running out." They could probably guess where this was going, but even if they couldn't they got a big hint when he upended the sack and lemons came tumbling out.

"Today, I want you all to get together and think of problems that could be solved with these. Think outside the box, and at the end of class, I want you to present both your problem and your lemony solution to the class. You can use the Danger Shop to provide props."

thefearwasreal

Today Oz's students fond themselves in a house, or more accurately, a room in a house. A bright, technicolor house. Oz, however, was nowhere to be seen. But that was okay, because he had a PA system.

"Simple class today, kids, no bombs, you've just got to get out of the house."

Because Oz was a big fan of simple, really.

thefearwasreal

Today as each student entered an apparently empty Danger Shop, Oz handed them a blindfold or a pair of mittens without thumbs.

"So today we've got a problem that can only be solved by teamwork," Oz said, not at all ominously. "So I need you to find a partner, one person should have a blindfold the other mittens, then put whichever item I handed you on."

Once they'd done so, he pressed a button, and a large, complicated device appeared in the middle of the room. It was ticking. "So this is a bomb. If it is not deactivated by the end of class, it will explode. If it is not deactivated correctly, it will explode. It needs to be deactivated in stages, with components related to each stage placed on opposite sides of the bomb, if someone starts working on a stage and the opposite side isn't started within within twenty seconds, it will explode."

"There are two toolkits by the bomb, I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

thefearwasreal

Today when Oz's class entered the Danger Shop, they would find themselves on top of a very, very tall cliff, with no way down. Well, except for what looked suspiciously like a take-off ramp. There were, however, a number of boxes nearby.

"Easy class today, kids," Oz told them. "You just need to find a way off the cliff."

So, you know, Oz's definition of easy there.

thefearwasreal

"Afternoon, kids." They were having class in a regular classroom this week, so there probably wouldn't be a repeat of the lava incident. Probably. "Now when it comes to problem-solving there is one thing you must take into consideration above all others, the people factor."

"You see people," Oz paused for effect. "Are by and large stupid. Maybe not individually, but in a group? Oh-boy. It doesn't matter if you're the man with the plan, if you know how to fix the problem with one simple action, you will be ignored in favour of the most idiotic notions until it's almost too late. And the almost is if you're lucky. So you need to know how people think, and take into consideration all the ways panicking people can make a bad situation worse"

"Now I could just throw you in the deep end and expect you all to sink or swim with who knows what riding on the line, no teacher like experience after all." But they were probably expecting that, so he had to lull them into a false sense of security. "But watching everything turn to chaos can be just as educational, so take a load off and see what happens when powerful ambition meets poor impulse control."

thefearwasreal

Oz had his students meet him down in the Danger Shop, which was set up as a fairly normal classroom, albeit one where the nearest desks were a good few metres from the entrance, but that probably wasn't important, really.

"Greetings, kids, and welcome to creative problem solving," Oz began once "Because when life gives you lemons you can make lemonade or you can make lemon grenades." Go on and guess which camp Oz fell into.

"Since it's the first week and I spy some new faces, it's time for introductions, so let's tell each other our names, grade, what you think you can bring to the table when it comes to solving problems, you know, the usual thing. Starting with you there, sparky."

When the introductions were over, Oz continued, fiddling with a remote. "Now that those are out of the way, we're going to ease into things with a simple teamwork exercise. Working together, you all have to get to the door by then end of class, but you see you have a problem, as the floor is now lava." He pressed a button on the remote and the floor started taking on a distinct red and orange hue. "And since we're in here, it's not imaginary lava."

Well, it was actually red and orange jello, but did they really want to wade through three-foot-deep jello to get to the door? That stuff stained.

worsethanaunts.livejournal.com

They were in what looked like a restaurant kitchen today and the Doctor was standing there, looking too pleased with himself for this to mean good things. "There's nothing a final will teach you that couldn't be learned in a kitchen. Working under pressure, creativity, teamwork, timing, adaptability and, yes, even making impossible decisions. You have one hour to make a three course meal for the ambassador from Shantella Prime, that judge from Masterchef with the glasses and me. It's up to you to work together to decide on a menu, use the ingredients from the pantry, figure out how to use the cooking equipment and deliver something edible. Will you cook? Will you cut? Will you take orders from others or be someone who listens and follows orders? Will you sit this one out and expect everyone else to solve the problem?" He looked at his watch. "You'd best be getting started."

worsethanaunts.livejournal.com

The Doctor was very pleased with himself for arriving with only seconds to spare. All that running around kept him in good shape for when he had to run even more.

( Doctor, what do you know of the Weeping Angels? )

worsethanaunts.livejournal.com

Anyone who went to the Danger Shop would have found a note on the door saying 'The playground is a nice place today. -The Doctor.'

Sure enough, if they were to run their way into town to the playground in the park, they would find the Doctor swinging back and forth on the swings, legs stretched out in front of him. He waited a proper amount of time to give everyone a chance to arrive before he started to talk. There were free swings if anyone wanted to join in.

"I had this wonderful idea about using the Danger Shop and some fast talking into trick you into being confused about whether or not Fandom was real and whether you were all actually students at a dull and boring boarding school in New Hampshire. That would be morally questionable considering you're technically children in this state and year and I wouldn't be able to reverse what I was going to do with the Danger Shop...and it's a bit mean. Instead we're going to talk about it."

worsethanaunts.livejournal.com

The Doctor's TAs were noticeably absent and that bothered him. That was only one reason why he looked irritable as he paced the room that looked like your average generic high-tech control room. The other reason, well, one of the other reasons was the topic at hand.

"Compassion. If you don't know what it is, look in the Wikipedia and don't bother me today. If you do know what it is, then you'll understand what we're doing today. Any species can develop enough technologically to be considered advanced. It's the social development, the interconnectedness with the rest of the universe and how one holds oneself in standing with the rest of existence that truly determines how advanced a species is.

Having compassion and exercising compassion differ. One is a feeling, a built-in empathy, an emotional response. The other is a choice, a moral dilemma that many of you will have to face at some point. Exercising compassion isn't easy. It shouldn't always be. It's the choices you make when it isn't easy that make compassion as important as it is."

The Doctor gestured around him. "All hypothetical here, but the emotion is real. We're in a control room under Fandom Island." It wasn't a recreation of the actual control room; this was just something that looked fancy and high-tech enough to do the job. "This is what makes it tick. It's what keeps the island as an access point to the many, many different universes and time periods. You'd need an incredible amount of power to keep that going as long as it has. Ever wonder what does it?" He pointed to a pulse beam that kept shooting electricity into what looked like a large, exposed brain.

worsethanaunts.livejournal.com

Oh look, still no exotic locations. The students walking through the Danger Shop doors found themselves in the library. Yes, that library. It was empty aside from the Doctor who was sitting on the collections desk, legs swinging over the edge. There were a few lamps on around the library and moonlight coming in the windows, suggesting it was late at night in here rather than 11am like it was outside.

Once everyone was gathered and the doors were closed, the Doctor leapt off the desk. "Sometimes," the Doctor started, pacing around in the well-lit areas, "you end up somewhere you're not expecting to be. Happens to me all the time. For some of you, even being here is somewhere you're not expecting to be. Wait. Sorry." He paused. "I forgot to say hello. Hello! Very rude of me. As I was saying, you don't always expect to walk head first into a problematic situation. Usually you won't be the only one there. Sometimes you'll be able to leave when others can't.

You have a choice." He looked around at them. "Fight or flight. You could take your leave, walk out and that's a perfectly reasonable solution to the problem. Of course, you'll be leaving everyone else to their own fate. Or you could always choose to stay, putting your life in immediate danger, but you could find out what's going on and help the people around you. Your choice. Make it now."

worsethanaunts.livejournal.com

Oh look. They were back in the holographic version of the park. There was no real reason for it today, other than the Doctor liking the park quite a lot.

"Hello! Sky's blue again this week." The Doctor had his arms spread out like he wanted a hug, but for now he resisted the urge to actually impose a hug on anybody. "No Atraxi threatening to roast us like a Sunday dinner from their ships above. In fact," he noted, glancing around rather suspiciously of their surroundings, "everything seems perfectly normal. Except it's not. That's what 'seems' means as opposed to 'is' and usually, even if you don't always notice it, there's something going on right under your noses.

( Oh, by the way... )

worsethanaunts.livejournal.com

Upon walking through the doors of the Danger Shop, it was completely understandable if the fine students of Practical Crisis Problem Solving (which the Doctor preferred to call "Staying Out of Trouble Badly") were very confused. They were in the park. Yes, the park, the one in Fandom just outside and down the road. Fandom all around them looked normal, at least as far as the beach. Then the water and everything beyond it was all hazy. The sky was an odd shade of red too.

"Hello!" the Doctor said, looking very smart in his tweed jacket and bow tie. There were other clothes too (including pants), but those were the two articles worth mentioning. "I'm the Doctor. You are all in Staying Out of Trouble Badly." See, with the calling the class the wrong name. "Which might be on your little schedule spreadsheets as something to do with problem solving. If you're not supposed to be here," he added with a smile, "stay anyway. Have some fun. Today we're going to get the creative juices flowing." He frowned. "No, I don't like the sound of that. It sounds too...moist. Doesn't matter." He switched back on track. "You might be wondering why the sky is red. Or orange. Burnt sienna? Would we call it that? Maybe Sinopia instead. The colour, not the planet. I had a point somewhere.

The sky. Yes. The sky is red because the entire island," he turned around in a circle and pointed in every direction for emphasis, "is surrounded by a shield. You can't penetrate it and you can't transport out of it, sorry if that's your thing. The reason for this a species called the Atraxi have tracked a criminal here to the very pretty Fandom Island. Prisoner Zero is its name. If Prisoner Zero doesn't give itself up in an hour, the Atraxi are going to incinerate everything and everyone inside the shield. They don't do things by halves.

I don't expect you to find Prisoner Zero today, but before the hour is up, each of you is to come up with a plan. Brainstorm. That's what we're here for today. Brainstorm a plan. Talk to me. Talk to each other. Let's get some ideas on how to find Prisoner Zero, stop the Atraxi from burning us all to a crisp and save Fandom. Your name might be useful too, if you don't mind telling me it. Oh, and if you do have higher brain function and can understand what I'm saying, please raise your hand so I can identify anyone who doesn't and can't."

[Roster, Class Details & Syllabus]

drgrissom.livejournal.com

Grissom is in a shockingly jovial mood. He's even rocking a costume and has candy (without bugs) for his students. Must have some good Halloween childhood memories buried somewhere.

Criminology

Here is the study guide for your midterm exam. [it will be an 'essay question', but feel free to study/stress]

To review, in class today I would like you to discuss one thing you have learned in this class so far, and how it either surprised you, or changed your mind in regards to a certain topic. If that is not the case in any aspect, why not?

Death and Dying

Discussion: Your homework was to Choose a death by suicide from Shakespeare's work, and share a short reaction to it. Please do so.

Your midterm exam will be on Wednesday! It will be an in-class essay, in a similar vein to the homework you are turning in. Using what you have learned in class, and moving on to our accidental death chapter, please analyze A Darwin Award Winner or Honourable Mention. You may bring in notes on one 3x5 index card.

Fandom High RPG

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