Patterning Challenges
Patterning challenges require a character to use reasoning to solve sequences.
Uncover a hidden offshore account by noticing a recurring pattern in the dates and amounts of transactions in financial records.
> Analyze the records, looking for a pattern.
The financial records are a mess of numbers and dates, a chaotic symphony of greed. I sift through them, looking for the rhythm beneath the noise. “What stands out here?” I mutter, my eyes scanning the data like a hawk searching for prey.
The pattern emerges like a ghost from the fog: transactions on the 15th of every month, each a breadcrumb leading to the truth. “These transactions occur on the 15th of every month,” I note, the pieces falling into place.
Arrange a series of tiles in a specific pattern to reveal a hidden compartment.
> Identify the correct pattern.
The tiles are a puzzle, each a piece of a larger mystery. I put my nose to them as if to sniff the hidden logic. “What is the correct arrangement?” I ponder, my fingers tracing the symbols.
The pattern reveals itself as a sequence of symbols that speaks to a deeper order. “These symbols seem to form a sequence,” I say, the solution tantalizingly close.
A high-tech lab has a security door with a color-coded lock. To open the door, observe the sequence of coloured lights on a nearby control panel and replicate it on the lock.
> Observe the sequence of coloured lights.
The control panel blinks with a sequence: Red, blue, green, yellow,” I repeat, the sequence burning into my memory. The lights flash again, a challenge and a promise.
I input the sequence; each button presses a step toward freedom. “Red, blue, green, yellow,” I say, the lock yielding to my touch. The door clicks open, the lab’s secrets laid bare.
Blueprints in an old apartment building slated for demolition show an asymmetrical pattern on one floor, suggesting a hidden room.
> Study the blueprints for a pattern.
I remove my spectacles and bring my face closer to the blueprints, hunching over the table like a swivel lamp. “This floor plan looks unusual,” I note. The asymmetry is a clue.
The hidden room reveals itself in the lines and angles. I go to the specified floor, the blueprints a guide in my hand, my fingers tracing the walls until the hidden door gives way.
The detective in “Pattern of Deceit,” possibly the same as in “Phantom of Bryston,” uses patterning to unravel the murder mystery. The crime scene is littered with seemingly random objects, but they tell a story: the broken clock when the crime occurred, the spilled ink, a struggle, scattered face cards, a game or gamble.
The detective identifies a pattern in the suspect’s movements captured on security footage. The suspect’s avoidance of cameras and use of public transportation at specific times further solidify the sequence of events. Analyzing these patterns, the detective predicts the suspect’s next move, leading to a tense confrontation and eventual arrest.
Patterns of Deceit
London, 1999
Marlowe Towers
The city spits its morning rush out the Tube. I arrive at the crime scene, another high-rise office building in the heart of downtown.
Richard Lawson, some big-shot executive, was found in his office. The scene is already taped off, uniformed bobbies playing their part in the circus, keeping the gawkers at bay.
Lawson’s Office
I enter the office, the air thick with stale coffee and sweat. Lawson’s body is slumped over his desk, a pool spreading beneath him.
Around the room, a series of seemingly random objects catch my eye: a broken clock, a spilled bottle of ink, scattered playing cards, a half-burned candle. My old man, a detective too, always said the devil’s in the details. He wasn’t wrong.
Examine the objects.
I start with the broken clock. Its hands are frozen at 3:15. Next, I move to the spilled ink, noting the peculiar pattern it formed on the floor. The deck of cards is scattered, but only the face cards are visible. The half-burned candle sits on the windowsill, its wax dripping in a deliberate line. Each object tells a part of a story I need to piece together.
Look for a pattern.
I step back and take in the scene as a whole. The objects seem random at first glance, but there’s a method to the madness.
The clock, ink, cards, and candle represent a different time element. The clock shows a specific time, the ink marks a moment of action, the cards suggest a game or gamble, and the candle signifies the passage of time.
Check the security camera footage.
I leave the office and head to the building’s …
Security Room
The guard on duty, a burly man with a kind face, pulls up the footage from the night of the murder.
I watch as a figure in a dark hoodie enters the building at 2:45 AM, heads to the elevator, and disappears from view. The same figure exits the building at 3:30.
Analyze the suspect’s movements.
I rewind the footage and pay close attention to the suspect’s movements. The suspect moves with purpose, avoiding the main cameras and sticking to the shadows. They’ve done this before.
Check public transportation schedules.
I pull out my phone and access the city’s public transportation timetable. The suspect’s movements suggest the bus or train to navigate the city. The buses that pass the building at those times align with the suspect’s entry and exit.
What’s the suspect’s next move?
Glad you asked. Based on the transportation schedule, I predict the suspect will use the same route again. I’ll set up an interception at King’s Cross, where multiple bus and train lines converge.
King’s Cross Station
I arrive at the transit hub, a bustling nexus of activity. People rush to catch their buses and trains, oblivious to the unfolding investigation. I position myself near the main entrance, watching the incoming and outgoing passengers.
Minutes turn into hours as I wait, my eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of the suspect. As I begin to doubt my prediction, I spot a figure in a dark hoodie moving through the crowd with the same purposeful stride.
Follow.
I tail the suspect, keeping a safe distance, boarding a bus heading to the city’s outskirts.
The Bus
I follow, taking a seat at the back of the bus. The suspect, face buried in a smartphone, doesn’t seem to notice me.
The bus stops, and the suspect stands, heading for the exit. I follow closely, heart pounding, then make my move.
“Hold it right there,” I say, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
The suspect turns, their eyes widening in surprise. “Who are you?” they ask, their voice shaky.
“Police and you’re under arrest for the murder of Richard Lawson.”
Police Station
The interview room is cold and sterile, a stark contrast to the chaos of the crime scene. The suspect sits across from me, eyes darting nervously.
“Why did you kill Richard Lawson?” I ask, my voice calm but firm.
The suspect chooses to remain silent, but I have a good idea why. Lawson was blackmailing.
Explain that, detective.
He discovered the suspect’s involvement in a series of illegal activities and was using that information to extort money. Desperate and cornered, the suspect saw murder as the only way out.
As my old man would say, trap a tiger in a corner, and it’ll leap at you.
In “Lost Colony,” decoding overlaps with pattern recognition. The protagonist astronaut must input the code 3-7-1-9: Recognize the worn numbers on the keypad to determine the correct code. The astronaut must also input the star symbol, recalling it from the lab notes, to unlock the hatch.
Lost Colony
Epsilon Eridani, 2147
The Starship
The stars stretch forever in every direction as I pilot my ship, the Stellar Voyager, toward Rán. It’s the third closest star to Earth, with old Sol being the first.
Rán was thought to have only one planet, an uninhabitable gas giant. Hidden in the debris disk is a Goldilocks wanderer—not too hot, not too cold. Just right for a colony to have settled on what is now charted as Kólga.
Kólga was a descendant of Rán in mythology. I aim to locate and investigate the lost human colony on Kólga, a world long forgotten by Earth.
Planet Kólga
The ship’s landing gear touches the planet’s surface with a soft thud. The landscape is a mix of alien flora and crumbling human structures, remnants of a once-thriving colony.
I leave the ship, the air thick with the scent of unfamiliar vegetation.
Colony Dome
My heart pounds with a mix of excitement and trepidation. My sister, Dr. Elena Reyes, was part of the original expedition. I need to know what happened to her.
Explore the colony ruins.
The streets are deserted, the silence oppressive. Buildings stand like war-weary soldiers, their windows dark and empty. A flicker of movement catches my eye—a holographic terminal still active despite the decay.
Even when new, this was old tech by Earth standards. I remember Elena’s stories about the cutting-edge technology they were supposed to have. Something must have gone wrong.
Activate the terminal.
The terminal hums to life, displaying a message: “Welcome to Kólga Colony. Please input your access code.”
I don’t have a code, but notice a small compartment beneath the terminal. Inside it is an ID card: Dr. Elena Reyes. My heart skips a beat. I swipe the card through the terminal, and the screen changes, displaying a map of the colony and several highlighted locations.
Head to the …
research lab
The lab is a short walk from the terminal. The door is locked, but a keypad suggests a numerical code is required.
The pad shows signs of wear, with certain numbers more worn than others. The code must be a combination of these numbers.
Input the code: 3-7-1-9.
The door clicks open, and I step inside. The lab has scientific equipment, papers, and a large, central computer terminal. I can’t recall ever seeing real paper—or a physical terminal. A series of notes pinned to a board catches my eye.
Read the notes.
The notes detail experiments on the local flora and fauna, but one note stands out: “Biodome Project Genesis—the key to our survival.” The biodome is marked on the map from the terminal. I remember Elena mentioning Project Genesis in her last transmission. It was supposed to be their lifeline.
Head to the …
bio-dome
The dome is an impressive structure, its transparent walls covered in a thin layer of dust. Inside, the air is humid and filled with the scent of plants, as if roses crossed with cabbage. A central console stands in the middle of the dome.
Activate the console.
The console displays a message: “Systems operational. Input command.” I notice a series of buttons and press “Diagnostics.”
The screen shows a list of systems, with one blinking red, “Water Filtration: Critical.” The biodome’s water supply is contaminated, and the filtration system needs repair.
Fix the filtration system.
It’s housed in a small room at the back of the biodome. The machinery is complex, but a manual on the wall provides instructions for repairs.
I gather the necessary tools and components from the lab and follow the manual’s instructions. After some effort, the system hums back to life, and the water clears. I can almost hear Elena’s voice guiding me through the steps.
Return to the central console.
The console now displays a new message. “Water Filtration: Operational. Input command.” I notice a button labelled “Communications” and press it.
The screen flickers and a video message begins to play. Dr. Elena Reyes appears, her face weary but determined.
“If you’re seeing this, it means you’ve found our colony. We were forced to abandon it due to an alien threat. The key to our survival lies in the underground bunker. Find it, and you’ll find the answers.”
Head to the …
underground bunker
The entrance to the bunker is hidden beneath a large, overgrown tree—or what passes for a tree. I clear the foliage and find a hatch. It’s locked, but a nearby keypad suggests another code is required.
This pad is different, with symbols instead of numbers. I recall a symbol from the notes in the lab. A star.
The hatch opens with a hiss, and I descend into the bunker. The air is stale, and the walls are lined with storage crates and equipment. A central chamber houses a large, cylindrical device.
Investigate the device.
It’s a cryogenic chamber. Inside, a figure lies in suspended animation. A control panel beside the chamber displays a series of commands.
Activate the chamber.
The chamber hisses as it begins to thaw, and the figure inside stirs. Dr. Elena Reyes steps out, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.
“You found us,” she says, her voice filled with relief. “We have much to discuss.”
Talk with Dr. Reyes.
Dr. Reyes explains that an alien species attacked the colony, forcing them to hide. The cryogenic chamber was their last hope, but the systems began to fail. She hands me a data chip containing information about the aliens, but knowing they are safe, I will save it for the archives.
Dr. Reyes looks at me, her eyes filled with hope. “We need your help to rebuild. Your resources and expertise. Will you stay and help us or return to Earth with this information?”
Return to Earth.
Er, no. I stay, knowing the colony’s survival depends on it. Together, we begin the arduous task of rebuilding, using the knowledge and resources we’ve gathered. The future of Kólga Colony is uncertain, but with determination and cooperation, we will thrive.
Such was the pep talk of the time, before the aliens. The term ‘alien,’ is relative. Dr. Reyes is an alien to Kólga, as am I. The rose-cabbage plant is not. Those who attacked the colony returned, but they came from within, awakened with the colonists.
Escape Kólga.
As I prepare to ascend into the debris disk around Rán, I am reminded of a story hundreds of years old …
Liftoff
About a Forbidden Planet. Monsters of their sleeping imagination felled an advanced civilization.
The level of technology Dr. Reyes and others brought to this tiny planet is hardly advanced. Yet, its plant life is capable of more than mixing odours.
Perhaps they dreamed us gone. Perhaps their evolved defence mechanism activated aggression among the true aliens—the colonists themselves.
