Friday Foxer #217
This week’s handmade co-op puzzle won’t defox itself. If you’re a dab hand at quizzes, lateral thinking, and search engine sleuthing, why not help out.
This week’s handmade co-op puzzle won’t defox itself. If you’re a dab hand at quizzes, lateral thinking, and search engine sleuthing, why not help out.
I’ve written hundreds of reviews, previews, and retrospectives during my twenty-odd years as a games inspector. As many of these appeared in the British version of PC Gamer magazine and nowhere else, now and again something from my archive may appear as one of THC’s daily posts. In late September 2012, a fab sci-fi story generator called FTL coaxed me from my cosy genre niche and persuaded me to part with 89 of PC Gamer’s precious percentage points.
If there’s no foxer on Friday, blame Alpine Route. Right now, Roman, my Chief Foxer Setter, should be putting together a vowel-stripped list of ‘33 Things Wot You Might Find in Russia’ but instead he’s pondering possible routes for a mule track in the Swiss Alps.
The days when THC dealt with competitors using polonium-laced IPA, booby-trapped sim hardware, or bouquets sprinkled with funnel-web spiders, are long gone. Nowadays we usually employ more humane methods like distracting our rivals with time-consuming interview questions.
Night has fallen on squelchy Clifton Moor and once again it seems I’ve failed to stop the majority of Lord George Murray’s tartaned troublemakers retreating northward towards the Scottish border. My search for a win in the fascinating War of the Austrian Succession continues.
Using the following clues (the map above is purely decorative) in combination with Street View, work out my location.
“F**k this for a game of soldiers”… “I didn’t sign up for this”… “The mission designer needs shooting”… Alpha One, my level 3 Rangers team, has turned mutinous! Having suffered heavy casualties during the first three days of Operation Subjugator (three KIA, three seriously wounded, and three lightly wounded) the top brass now expects them to fight their way into a water filtration plant crawling with hostiles, and defuse three bombs in under two minutes. “This shit is pure Hollywood” mutters Dalton as, shaking his head, he slots a mag into his M249. I nod in agreement.
Every Friday, Tally-Ho Corner’s cleverest clogs come together to solve a ‘foxer’ handcrafted by my sadistic chum and colleague, Roman. A complete ‘defoxing’ sometimes takes several days and usually involves the little grey cells of many readers. All are welcome to participate.