It would appear I am failing to understand this Drinker Paradox. Are paradoxes not meant to be self-contradictory? From the afore-linked description, I gather your "paradox" is simply a statement which is eternally true.
2+2 is eternally true, the drinker paradox is always true even though it appears to allow for a false option, at least that's how I understand the difference
Well, isn't this a fine kettle of fish. The only reason I even got on this ship was because I've got to look for two old guys who ran away from the old folks' home. If Gaspar and Horace could please come out and contact me for further instructions, that would be just great. Then, hopefully we can go about our own business and get out of your hair.
Well, isn't this a fine kettle of fish. The only reason I even got on this ship was because I've got to look for two old guys who ran away from the old folks' home. If Gaspar and Horace could please come out and contact me for further instructions, that would be just great. Then, hopefully we can go about our own business and get out of your hair.
Thank you...
Fine... kettle of fish? I do say I like that saying!
Almost a full day and still nothing gleaned. Truly, the skies have forsaken us. What will happen when these heretical beasts strike once more?
Unfortunately, the first day rarely gleans any useful information, except in the deaths of those robots, or robo-sympathisers, we smash upon the waves of fortune. Rest assured, information will be readily forthcoming.
I'll throw in a vote for Infidel. Just to avoid Inactivus.
As far as Horace and Gaspar, well, they escaped from the old folks' home a few nights ago... someone said that they were planning to take the steamship, taking the opportunity to drink all the liquor and pinch all the young maids where they aren't supposed to... it's my job to find them and get them to at least admit that I'm supposed to be taking care of them.
I'll throw in a vote for Infidel. Just to avoid Inactivus.
As far as Horace and Gaspar, well, they escaped from the old folks' home a few nights ago... someone said that they were planning to take the steamship, taking the opportunity to drink all the liquor and pinch all the young maids where they aren't supposed to... it's my job to find them and get them to at least admit that I'm supposed to be taking care of them.
Well, if they're here, they signed my guestbook... I just need to find it.
Dunadan019Sigmund Lalonde looked at the assembled crowd with an expression somewhere between the eating of a lemon and the realization one had stepped in excrement. “After years of service to the Duchess, never mind my charity to the poor, you intend to cast doubt on me?”
“It makes sense!” someone with a great deal of bluster exclaimed from the crowd, “They’d replace the best of us! Make you look like you can be trusted! I know all about clockwinks, I own five watches!” The crowd gave a resounding cheer, caught up in his words. Sigmund closed his eyes and inhaled, before standing tall, showing no fear.
“Fine then,” he said coldly, “Lock me away. But know this – locked in this mad frenzy, like a group of common villagers, will see you all like the rest of my customers.”
“You see!” another man in the crowd exclaimed, “He looks at us like the dead! Get him!” The crowd surged forward, paying no heed to Sigmund’s fine clothes and trampling his hat as it fell from his head. They tugged him and pulled at him forcibly, bringing him to the nearest, smallest room and shutting the door. “Good work everyone! That’s one of those beasts down!”
Sigmund stared at the sealed door in disdain, before rising and turning. Behind him the ghosts of morticians past rose from the ground, glancing at him with mixed expressions. He turned to face them, waiting a few seconds before throwing his arms to either side and raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, you were kinda screwed,” Frederick Lalonde admitted. The ghosts glanced from side to side, whispering and muttering amongst each other.
“What now?” Sigmund hissed.
“Uhm…” Frederick stalled, turning back to the other ghosts and whispering a few moments longer. He nodded and turned back to his descendent. “It’s just, uh. Well, this is. Erm. Inconvenient. This is actually a furnace.”
Sigmund fumed.
*
Carefully he lined up his shot. He’d been watching him for a while now, and there was no doubt in his mind that SLyMHorace Frink was an artificial man. It was brilliant really – send them in old shells, make them look harmless. He took the shot.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed a few seconds later. An old man bled out slowly on the floor. “Shit, damn, are you alright?” he asked, rushing to his side. “You…I’m…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Horace clutched his chest as his vision faded, looking up not at his attacker, but at the bright light above him. “So few?” he asked quietly, “They were numbered, but so few?” He reached weakly out, grabbing the collar of the man above him. “B-bury me…with twenty virgins…”
His attacker cast his eyes down, ashamed. An old man died in his arms, because he had been too hasty. Never aga-His collar was tugged at again.
“Ladies,” Horace clarified with his last breaths, “Of age. Don’t…make it….weird…”
*
Virgil_Leads_YouTimothy Dellinger knelt over the corpse of The Visionary. He couldn’t help being cautious – he didn’t trust these damn things to play fair. It looked like the ticking was winding down though – there wasn’t any explosives, just a dying machine. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet no…the ticking was beginning to pick up again? It was getting louder, had he missed something? It took a few seconds longer of searching the machine’s corpse to realize exactly where he had made a mistake. Primarily, the assumption that the only thing that could be ticking was the corpse.
He had no opportunity to fight back, no chance to investigate nor even look at his attacker. Hands closed around his neck from behind, a vice of a grip that he could not break. He could not even manage to get up on his leg with the force of his attacker.
They would find him when they returned to the ballroom, dropped at the bottom of the stairs, neck twisted beyond recognition, and they would know they were no closer to victory.
Dunadan019 – Sigmund Lalonde (Mortician-In-Residence): Voted "Most likely to be an Artificial Man Hour 0" in university SLyM – Horace Frink (Aged Collaborator With His Good "Mason" Chum): Flintlock’d Virgil_Leads_You – Timothy Dellinger (Authority on Safe Demolitions): Forcibly requested to not be alive anymore.
A villager has achieved a secondary goal!
A villager has achieved a secondary goal!
A villager has achieved a secondary goal!
Role PMs now going out. Presuming that kime is available they will be replacing Lemminghead. Please voteto locate the Artificial Men.
This kind of robot infestation calls for a systematic search. I shall vote alphabetically. We can start at Virgil_Leads_You since that way it will take the vote longer to get around to me.
simonwolf, you were certain that innocent man was infact machine, but he was clean of soul and pure of flesh! It was plain as day! Such deception surely must be used to distract us from the real threat. I will have non of it, sir!
This kind of robot infestation calls for a systematic search. I shall vote alphabetically. We can start at Virgil_Leads_You since that way it will take the vote longer to get around to me.
Cretin! Did you fail to notice that my method would have you voted for second last?
Posts
For this unfortunate sequence of events I blame CaptainPlanet82
There is a robo-dingo amongst us.
What have you to say for yourself Ringo?
I concur, sir! CaptainPlanet82, or should I say CaptainPlanet1010010, must be brought to justice.
Confusion will be my epitaph
There is someone on the airship such that, if he is drinking, everyone on the airship is drinking.
Steam: Chagrin LoL: Bonhomie
Is...is that a paradox? There very well could be a man on the airship that only happens to drink when everyone else is drinking.
A man of brass says to a room of gentlemen, "all men of brass are liars."
!Dunadan until and unless we have some basis on which to make an informed decision.
Steam: Chagrin LoL: Bonhomie
Boom, Paradox'd
So, does this mean Peccavi is a robot, or... something something, paradox?
I lost my train of thought.
Confusion will be my epitaph
Thank you...
I can has cheezburger, yes?
I haven't any gloves to upgrade, nor drink to be driven to. Such is one's lot.
Me neither. Such is one's lot in life.
I suppose we could find something interesting to do to pass the time til nightfall. Can I interest anyone in a game?
Confusion will be my epitaph
Fine... kettle of fish? I do say I like that saying!
Who are these people you search for?
Confusion will be my epitaph
Steam: Chagrin LoL: Bonhomie
Cythraul is this you?
Narration will likely be a little late tonight as I learn that keeping track of everything is vastly more complicated than I anticipated.
Well let's just see what we havAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH What the hell is that!!!
Seriously, that would be no way to show up to a party!
This is an interesting game though I suppose... Ringo, is this you?
Confusion will be my epitaph
If so, Ringo wins the award for "Most Poorly Made Robot... Ever"
Steam: Chagrin LoL: Bonhomie
Unfortunately, the first day rarely gleans any useful information, except in the deaths of those robots, or robo-sympathisers, we smash upon the waves of fortune. Rest assured, information will be readily forthcoming.
Pfft, you're supposed to keep it going! Don't you play games?
kuhlmeye, is this you?
Confusion will be my epitaph
As far as Horace and Gaspar, well, they escaped from the old folks' home a few nights ago... someone said that they were planning to take the steamship, taking the opportunity to drink all the liquor and pinch all the young maids where they aren't supposed to... it's my job to find them and get them to at least admit that I'm supposed to be taking care of them.
I can has cheezburger, yes?
Well, if they're here, they signed my guestbook... I just need to find it.
My gravest apologies, but I do believe that my spot would be better served by someone else.
Dead men and the men who know them
“Is this a joke?”
Dunadan019 Sigmund Lalonde looked at the assembled crowd with an expression somewhere between the eating of a lemon and the realization one had stepped in excrement. “After years of service to the Duchess, never mind my charity to the poor, you intend to cast doubt on me?”
“It makes sense!” someone with a great deal of bluster exclaimed from the crowd, “They’d replace the best of us! Make you look like you can be trusted! I know all about clockwinks, I own five watches!” The crowd gave a resounding cheer, caught up in his words. Sigmund closed his eyes and inhaled, before standing tall, showing no fear.
“Fine then,” he said coldly, “Lock me away. But know this – locked in this mad frenzy, like a group of common villagers, will see you all like the rest of my customers.”
“You see!” another man in the crowd exclaimed, “He looks at us like the dead! Get him!” The crowd surged forward, paying no heed to Sigmund’s fine clothes and trampling his hat as it fell from his head. They tugged him and pulled at him forcibly, bringing him to the nearest, smallest room and shutting the door. “Good work everyone! That’s one of those beasts down!”
Sigmund stared at the sealed door in disdain, before rising and turning. Behind him the ghosts of morticians past rose from the ground, glancing at him with mixed expressions. He turned to face them, waiting a few seconds before throwing his arms to either side and raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, you were kinda screwed,” Frederick Lalonde admitted. The ghosts glanced from side to side, whispering and muttering amongst each other.
“What now?” Sigmund hissed.
“Uhm…” Frederick stalled, turning back to the other ghosts and whispering a few moments longer. He nodded and turned back to his descendent. “It’s just, uh. Well, this is. Erm. Inconvenient. This is actually a furnace.”
Sigmund fumed.
*
Carefully he lined up his shot. He’d been watching him for a while now, and there was no doubt in his mind that SLyM Horace Frink was an artificial man. It was brilliant really – send them in old shells, make them look harmless. He took the shot.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed a few seconds later. An old man bled out slowly on the floor. “Shit, damn, are you alright?” he asked, rushing to his side. “You…I’m…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Horace clutched his chest as his vision faded, looking up not at his attacker, but at the bright light above him. “So few?” he asked quietly, “They were numbered, but so few?” He reached weakly out, grabbing the collar of the man above him. “B-bury me…with twenty virgins…”
His attacker cast his eyes down, ashamed. An old man died in his arms, because he had been too hasty. Never aga-His collar was tugged at again.
“Ladies,” Horace clarified with his last breaths, “Of age. Don’t…make it….weird…”
*
Virgil_Leads_You Timothy Dellinger knelt over the corpse of The Visionary. He couldn’t help being cautious – he didn’t trust these damn things to play fair. It looked like the ticking was winding down though – there wasn’t any explosives, just a dying machine. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet no…the ticking was beginning to pick up again? It was getting louder, had he missed something? It took a few seconds longer of searching the machine’s corpse to realize exactly where he had made a mistake. Primarily, the assumption that the only thing that could be ticking was the corpse.
He had no opportunity to fight back, no chance to investigate nor even look at his attacker. Hands closed around his neck from behind, a vice of a grip that he could not break. He could not even manage to get up on his leg with the force of his attacker.
They would find him when they returned to the ballroom, dropped at the bottom of the stairs, neck twisted beyond recognition, and they would know they were no closer to victory.
Dunadan019 – Sigmund Lalonde (Mortician-In-Residence): Voted "Most likely to be an Artificial Man Hour 0" in university
SLyM – Horace Frink (Aged Collaborator With His Good "Mason" Chum): Flintlock’d
Virgil_Leads_You – Timothy Dellinger (Authority on Safe Demolitions): Forcibly requested to not be alive anymore.
A villager has achieved a secondary goal!
A villager has achieved a secondary goal!
A villager has achieved a secondary goal!
Role PMs now going out. Presuming that kime is available they will be replacing Lemminghead. Please vote to locate the Artificial Men.
Had to get day 1'd at some point
OoOoOoOoO
Nevertheless, I shall vote for garroad_ran for his systematic approach to voting:
psn: lankyplonker
Cretin! Did you fail to notice that my method would have you voted for second last?