Attention prospective agents! This is Professor Blacksheep. As it turns out, your beloved Mr Q's cyber-security is a lot easier to hack than he'd have you believe. Don't worry though, I'm in a good mood this valentine's day, so just wanted to leave you some... useful tips... which will definitely help your escape room dates runs smoothly...
Yes, that'll do nicely. Oh, how I do love sabotage. Mwahaha MWAHAHA. Oh, is it... is it still typing? ALEXA! End text to speech.
Ahem... Sorry about that. Now, without further ado, the tips. Happy Valentine's day!
Arrive late. Need I say more? There’s nothing quite like keeping your potential partner waiting to make the butterflies in their stomach flutter. Five minutes, fine. Ten minutes, better. Half an hour, absolutely perfect. By the time you arrive, they’ll no doubt have spent at least twenty of those minutes wondering what sort of amazing things you could have been up to. Slaying dragons probably, or signing autographs for your hundreds of adoring fans. The only problem is, of course, that you won’t actually get to play the escape game. But hey, there’s your second date planned already! Works every time.
Don’t listen to the mission brief. The mission brief (the bit at the start during which the host tells you exactly what you’ll need to be doing) is, obviously, for squares. What’s there to know? You’re in a room, you need to leave the room. EASY. A walkie-talkie demonstration? No thank you. How rude of them to assume you can’t use a walkie-talkie. Which of course, you can. Or at least that’s what your date should think. Make it up if you have to.
Oh, this piece of kit? Pfft. Yeah yeah, channel, volume, I got it. We used the same model when I was in the Peace Corps. We lost a lot of good men out there, but we’d have lost many more if it wasn’t for me and this here radio. Not my words, of course. That’s what the mayor said in the paper at the time.
Instant swoon. Just make sure you get a staff-member to walk you through everything again while your date’s in the loo. You know, so that you actually know what the heck you’re doing.
Take lots of pictures together, inside the room. As soon as that door closes, get that camera out. Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap. Nothing’s more touching than someone wanting to remember a moment with you. Of course, you may get an ear-full via that aforementioned walkie-talkie - something along the lines of AGENTS, AS MENTIONED IN THE BRIEF WE DO NOT PERMIT PHOTOGRAPHY. THIS IS A TOP SECRET MISSION - but I’m pretty sure that’s just a pre-recorded message or something. As if people would actually be paid to monitor your entire game. It’s all computers these days, I reckon. Computers and aliens. Which, incidentally, is the name of the screenplay I’m currently working on.
If you don’t escape, just panic. Time is counting down; You’re in your final 30 seconds; 29, 28, 27…; You’re nowhere near escaping; there are still two locks left on the door, and you’re not sure you’re even in the last room. What do you do? Do you:
A) Gather your remaining clues and see which code fits which lock?
B) Keep working on your puzzle, assured that the staff will intervene and you’ll be out safely? Or
C) Graciously accept your fate, turn to your partner, and laugh jovially about your collective ineptitude?
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. If you picked any of the above answers, you may as well send your romantic interest home. Nothing is less desirable than logical thought. And don’t even get me started on gratitude. That is so 2018. Here’s what you should do: Scream. Puff up your chest, count to three, and let out the most blood-curdling scream possible. The staff will no doubt pause your game to come and check on you, and voila: you’ve got the door open.
Hey, I’m an evil genius. We don’t play fair...