#truth tellers and liars puzzle

[ninadove]

for the ask game- 6 and 9! :)

Thank you for the ask! 🧡🎩🧩

6. Favourite puzzle type?

I love simple concepts hidden behind needlessly confusing wording. Think liar-and-truth-teller puzzles, The Third Youngest and, of course, the one and only Battle of Wits! 💙

On the other hand, sliding blocks are my personal nightmare. I hate them with a burning, soul-destroying, London-crushing passion.

9. Favourite minigame?

The tea set for sure! It really awoke five-year-old Nina who played witch apprentice and mixed all kinds of flowers and leaves in her bucket. Plus the dialogues are extremely funny! 🫖☕️

[nagalias-mindscape]

Sis: I have a brain rot.

Me: Hm?

Sis: It's the stupid two-guards, one tells the truth the other only lies puzzle and you can only ask one question thing.

Me: Hm.

Sis: Can't you just ask the guard who tells you about the enchantment which door they're guarding? I mean. They have to be speaking truth, yeah?

Me: Hm.

Sis: If they were lying- which is very much possible- then that means that both guardians are liars. On the other hand, it's not possible for there to be two liars or two two truth tellers if the guardians alternate speaking. You know- the whole one who lies, one who speaks the truth bit.

Me: Hm.

Sis: So, like. Why is this such a stupid thing?

Me: Because you are missing part of the context. Traditionally the guardians do not speak when you approach, and the riddle is on a sigh between the two doors. Also, I don't recall if the riddle specifies which guard blocks which door, but if I remember right that's what you have to figure out using only a single question- hence why you ask something along the lines of which door the other would say is dangerous and go through the opposite.

Sis: ... Huh.

Me: ... I may have that wrong... It's. It's been a few years since I even thought of that puzzle. What brought this on?

Sis: Oh, I'm trying to solve this stupid puzzle you wanted to me demo for your game. It's confusing me. I'm at the one with the bottles and the instructions are... I'm trying to find the lie.

Me: ... That. There's no lies in the instructions. I... Hm. By the time the player gets to that point of the game, they should already have a feel for the mansion owner- mysterious, a bit of an asshole, but ultimately doesn't actually want to injure anyone and instead just wants to fill his boring immortal life with a bit of excitement. The list provided is all true.

Sis: That's can't be- there's only one green bottle. Instructions implies that the contents in the green bottles are the same.

Me: ... Did you collect all seven bottles?

Sis: Yes?

Me: On sec.

Me: ... This one, right there. And that one, too. That's... Are they not the same?

Sis: ... I forgot you have trouble telling similar colors apart. One is a sickly off-yellow that might qualify for green if I squint, and the other is a muted green.

Me: Fuck.

Sis: Might want to go with a dark green and a light green if you don't want them to be perfectly the same, but still similar colors.

[batmonkfish80]

Liner Notes for my space opera story Fairy Tale Ending

The puzzle or riddle goes like this. You are in a room with two exits. One leads to victory, the other to defeat. Also in the room are two guards. One of the guards always tells the truth. The other guard always lies. The two guards are identical, so you cannot tell which is which. You can ask them one question about the doors.

The canonical answer is to ask one guard what the other will say is the correct door to go through; this will always be incorrect as you are either asking the liar what the truth-teller will say or the truth-teller what the liar will say.

So much for logic. What if you don’t know the answer. Or if the situation is more complicated, obscuring the answer. What if there is no correct answer, no door that leads to victory.

In this case how someone responds to the puzzle tells you more about them than about the problem.

Hence the Space Angel’s castle. It puts visitors into situations where they must declare themselves, prove themselves, expose their motivations and desires. Or at least that’s the theory. It’s a little whimsical.

The Deep Patrol is an active, open, overt interventionist starfaring organisation. A para-military force. But what other types of organisation might there be? Hence the Yellow Emperor, taking their name from the legendary Daoist figure. Act without action, do without ado. Wu wei. What if you did the smallest possible action to achieve your goals. What if you simply made space for events to occur that encourage harmony.

What if you helped people, to help themselves, to act in accordance with the precepts you wish to see spread. To operate in plain sight but unseen. Changing charted space into harmonious space.

The choices I made when I started to write the Deep Patrol stories stick with me. The para-military force, the military ranks, an effort to reflect Star Trek. At the start of the series I cut Gunn loose from the patrol to see what he did, knowing inevitably when he stumbled over something big he’d turn back to them. That happened a bit quicker than I thought, I could (should?) have explored more of things outside. Looked into places without an officer class, other ways of doing things.

This then ends Space Angel Pursuit, much as it began. The Space Angel fleeing, chaos in it’s wake. Gunn with an uncertain future. Very few questions answered.

Almost as though it’s been reset for another series.

[maciek-jozefowicz]

“Of Villains, Victims and Heroes” — A Logic Puzzle Set from “My Silly Puzzles”

[ What did Shakespeare say about the world? That it is a stage and that we are all actors on that stage. Every one of us is wearing a mask, trying to hide the real us behind it, acting out our personas. I enjoy unmasking people. (Which is something that many people fear—being unmasked.) I suppose it’s a sick form of entertainment.* It does not make me an endearing person. Although I am “nice”, I hate falseness. Perhaps that is why I like truth-tellers-and-liars logic puzzles. These puzzles are about unmasking the characters, finding out who is really who, or who is really what.

In the real world, of course, it is not so easy as it is in a puzzle—it takes time and patience, keen observation, reason and an understanding of human nature**. Judging from his writing, Shakespeare must have been good at unmasking people.

“Of Villains, Victims and Heroes” is a truth-tellers-and-liars puzzle set from my book “My Silly Puzzles”. The premise for the puzzles was inspired by two rhymes that appear in my book “My Silly Poems.” They form a preamble to the introduction of the puzzles. The set consists of 18 puzzles. Most of the puzzles use three characters, but there are also puzzles with four, five, six and seven characters. ***

—————————

* But it is not only for fun that I unmask. While in public, I am civil to all and can get along with all, in private, I am highly selective. The people around you, influence you. Their mindset influences yours—positively or negatively. That is why I exclude from my private life people with mindsets that I am repulsed by, mindsets that I find to be toxic or merely shallow. I also exclude liars, fakes, phonies, hollow materialists, manipulators, schemers, vulgar opportunists, etc. (Some would consider this selectivity closed minded. It is not. I am open minded, but also highly judgmental. For example, I am willing to eat foods from different cultures, but I am not willing to eat poison.)

** In knowing others, one must first know oneself, and to know oneself one must be able to fearlessly take off one’s mask.**** I say fearlessly because many of us not only mask our true selves from others, we also mask our true selves from ourselves. This is called self-deceit, or denial. We especially hide our negative qualities—selfishness, narcissism, ignorance, enviousness, etc. For example, many people hide their narcissism and selfishness behind a mask of Empathy. (Generally, bad people, as well as shallow people, need masks; good people do not.)

*** If it only was as simple as a puzzle. But, unfortunately, in the real world liars often tell the truth (to gain credibility) and honest people sometimes tell lies (out of kindness*****). So then how does one tell which is which?

**** My definition of “family” is “a group of people among which you are comfortable being yourself; a group of people among which you feel comfortable being unmasked.”

***** Honest people should avoid telling lies out of kindness (or out of fear). Doing so perpetuates other people’s self-deceit. Self-deceit is unhealthy for any individual. It is also unhealthy for society. ]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

NEWSBREAK: Handsome Held for Ransom

If we count From 10 to 0, Helplessly hoping For the coming of a hero, Will He, or She, appear? 3…2…1…OH, DEAR!

But what if the hero does appear and the victim and the villain, too, are near, and we can’t tell which is which—which a villain, which a victim and which a hero be? Should we bother, or should we flee? Are there rules we can apply to help us them identify?

Yes. At least here, you won’t have to guess, because here the heroes are rude and mean, they can cut your feelings with their keen,* but they always tell the truth**; the villains are nice and sweet, but full of sweet deceit, that is to say, they always lie***; and the victims do what they must do to get by—sometimes they give us a truth and sometimes they give us a lie.****

—————————

* Though these types of clues have been deleted or these puzzles would be too easily defeated.

** and the truth won’t rot your “tooth”.

*** and lead you astray with their bouquet of lies that make you feel really, really, really nice until…until they give you their “bill”. (There is a price for so much nice!)

**** They are forced to be pliant to the needs of their client.

< 1 >

Ashley: “I am a Victim.”

Amelia: “I am a Hero.”

Angie: “I am a Villain.”

https://www.amazon.com/author/maciek_jozefowicz

[thescienceofdeductionandmore]

The Benders and the Zoidbergs problem

Here’s a fun little problem.

A sailor was caught in a bad storm while sailing, and she washed up on the shore of Smullyland. All the people on this island belong to one of 2 families: the Benders and the Zoidbergs. Members of the Bender family are incapable of telling the truth; members of the Zoidberg family are incapable of lying.

As our hero walked across the island she met 2 locals named Bob and Joe (who were friends; each knew which family the other was from). Joe told her where to find a boat that could get her off the island, and she wanted to know if what he said was true. She asked Bob: “Do both of you belong to the Zoidberg family?” Bob answered either “yes” or “no” (I won’t say which), but at this point she didn’t have enough information to determine which family Joe was from. Then she asked Joe: “Do you two belong to the same family?” Joe answered either “yes” or “no” (I won’t say which), but after hearing his answer she knew with no ambiguity which family Joe was from and thus whether he had told the truth about the boat. Was Joe telling the truth about the boat? 

Our hero has perfect reasoning ability- she will always solve a puzzle as soon as there is enough information, and she is never wrong in answering a puzzle.

Click here for the solution.   

[lynxgriffin]

Okay apologies, will attempt to respond to these in bunches so that I don’t clog up peoples’ dashes too much...

- Well, directional arrows would be useful for playing something that’s not actually a piano. ;) (To that end: yeah they’re not supposed to be readable music notes. It’s a different sort of guide.) 

- Awww thank you very much! Glad you liked this latest one!

- While the truth-teller/liar is often presented as a logic puzzle, in this case the lines between them are intentionally blurry...

- It’s not Metroid. 

[sylseal]

A lot of other kids tend to think superpowers have to do with being able to control the very elements with your mind. Occasionally, you get some kids who know that some powers are more subtle than others; the ability to implant a thought in someone's mind and have it change the course of their actions. The ability to see someone's intentions, and use that to discern the truth tellers from the liars.

Not you, though. Ever since you were little, when you discovered you were one of the one percent of people that don't have some kind of amazing superpower, your parents were determined to help you survive in a world that was finding you increasingly obsolete. So, your father and mother sat you down one night, and taught you their secret weapon. The one thing that neither stone, nor flame, nor wind, nor water could ever hope to destroy.

Your parents taught you about connections.

The funny thing about mankind is that they're extraordinarily great at pretending. You know that better than anybody, especially now. Your parents prepared you for the day that those with "gifted abilities" thought it would be a funny exercise to pick on you.

The prank? dump water all over your head, ruining days' worth of writing work in your favorite notebook.

The culprit? The class clown from 6A with the Hydrokinesis.

You didn't smolder, didn't try and punch him as he and his friends laughed. You knew better. With a deep breath, you packed up your things, and left for the day. Immediately, you had a plan in mind. You had a shower--you had no idea where that water came from, after all-- and then you got to work. A few phone calls to some friends of your parents', making a couple friendly conversations, each one having a puzzle piece you needed buried so deep within that by the time you had what you wanted, the other person has very little clue what it was.

You learned that the class clown was falling behind on grades. Not surprising, by any standard. You learned that they used to be a straight-A student. More surprising, that. Something happened, but what?

You kept digging. You learned that their rich parents had been arguing, had been talking of divorce. It was going to get ugly. You learned that the parents were trying to both get custody of their only son. Which meant that the poor guy was probably so turned around, not knowing which parent was right or wrong, that he didn't know which way was up. You could use that.

You dug in another direction, then. What was he like? Prone to outbursts, fits of rage? No. Not him. He was actually fairly level headed for a kid his age. He volunteered at an animal shelter last summer, his powers over Hydrokinesis meant that the shelter never had to want for clean water, and he was a hard worker at that. He loved animals and was a sensitive guy. The type who would take his parents' divorce particularly hard.

You thought you had enough, now. But to be sure, you checked for any other little points about him.

He liked to make others laugh. That meant he often sought the approval his parents denied him. That was enough.

You got his number from someone at school, and texted him.

"Meet me outside by the courtyard. Come alone or not at all."

"Who the fuck is this?" Immediately came the reply, followed by several more unnerved texts you didn't bother to read. Instead, you, confident, went out to the courtyard after class, and waited.

Soon enough, he showed up, practically stomping his way over. He looked quizzical as he saw it was you. You stood, and smiled softly at him.

"How are you?" He blinked, taken off his guard at that.

"Uh- f-fine I guess? Wha-"

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. I won't waste your time, I'm here for two primary reasons. Sit?" You were right by the school pond, mostly for his comfort. He did just that, sitting on one of the park benches. You didn't. "Thank you. You know, after the, ah, prank with the water, I realized I didn't know very much about you, so I did some digging. You used to be a straight-A student, used to volunteer, did all these great things, but then everything suddenly started slipping. Almost like something at home happened that caused you to start not caring about your own future. Like there are things that matter more." He furrowed his brow, looking almost like a cornered dog.

"What the fuck would you know about me and my situation?" He hissed in blind pain and rage, and you frowned at him, and gave him your best somber expression.

"A lot, actually. I remember the frustration, the anger, I remember not knowing if there was anybody I could trust. I remember wanting to take that out on everybody else. I remember not wanting anyone to pull me apart and see how hurt I was inside." You narrow your eyes at him, and he looks down, head hung in shame.

Got him.

"...Look," you sigh as you approach and adjust your glasses, "whether you have powers or not, you always get a choice. I can choose to hate you because you ruined days of my work. I can choose to spend my time twisting the knife on the personal shit you have going on. I can be that kind of monster. But quite honestly, that's not my style. I am choosing to tell you I know all this stuff because quite frankly, I think you need help. I think you need to decide whats best for you, rather than listening to what your parents want. I think you can choose to hate me for finding all this stuff out," you sit beside him, and hold out your hand, "or."

He slowly looked up at you, green eyes uncertain.

"...How did you get out of feeling like that?" He finally asked, the question you knew had been coming. You answered simply.

"I found someone I could trust. Someone who knew. It didn't matter whether they had powers or not. They knew what it was like. That was enough."

Slowly, with hesitation, he shook your hand.

The most dangerous superpower is not about being flashy or intense or angry.

"Nick," he breathed.

"Kel," you responded in kind. He looked sheepish now.

"I, uh, sorry about your um..." He motioned to your notebook, one of several you were holding. You laughed a little.

"No worries," you reassured him, "...I think I ended up with the better end of the deal, after all."

The most dangerous superpower is the ability to manipulate the social interconnectedness we interact with every day.

You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once.

[educationaldm]

Liars and Truth-tellers... who is who? Logic Puzzle from @UKMathsTrust.

[cthulhubert]

Welp, after around a year where I’d post up and spend 15–45 minutes working on it each Sunday, I’ve finally finished What is the Name of This Book (The Riddle of Dracula and Other Logical Puzzles) by Raymond Smullyan. Most of it was pretty fun, though I think if I hadn’t already had an introduction to formal logic and making truth tables, the questions with conditionals would’ve been too obtuse to keep going. It’s extremely weird getting used to “vacuously true” statements.

If you’re completely unfamiliar with this kind of book, well, have you ever seen the Labyrinth? (Also highly recommended.) In it there’s a part where the heroine comes to two doors, and is confronted by two strange creatures. They tell her that one door leads to the castle (her goal) and one to certain doom; they both know which is which. She’s also warned that in response to questions, one of them always lies, and one of them always tells the truth, and she only gets one question period. She uses her cunning to ask the correct question that would get either the liar or the truth teller to tell her the answer (then discovers that they both lied about the premise, as she’s dropped into an oubliette). These “knight and knave” puzzles make up the bulk of this book.

It was very interesting noticing that by the very end, when he’d built up to Elite Transylvanians, who could be humans or vampires, sane or insane, and answered yes no questions with “bal” or “da“, which could have inverted meanings depending on the circumstances... I was straight up hitting the limits of my cognitive capacity. At least twice I had actually guessed the correct answer, but in checking it, I made an error in my computation and thought I’d gotten it wrong.

It’s also fascinating that that was my method, for a lot of the questions: guess and check. Flashbacks to high school algebra.

I wrote once on reddit that logic puzzles like this help develop our ability to think abstractly, to quiet the voice of intuition and pay specific attention to the exact premise. I still think that’s true, but it’s also clear that in some ways it just develops another kind of intuition.

[kazosa]

Secrets - SoA: Chapter 3

Summary: Reader has lived in a life full of secrets. When her father dies unexpectedly and sends her on a trip all over the country, she finds out just how much like her father she really is. The end of her trip brings her to Charming, CA where she finally gets some big pieces of her family puzzle put back in place and form new relationships with the people there. Chapter 3: Family history, a certain intimacy, somewhat confused feelings Warnings: language, fluffiness, somewhat confused feelings A/N: If it wasn’t clear before, this takes place after the events of the final episode, so SPOILERS Word Count:  3050 Tags: @telford-ortiz-teller  @sam-samcro  @tstieff  @yourcroweater IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN SOME WAY. ASK BOX IS SAFEST WAY, BUT I DO TRY TO LOOK AT ALL COMMENTS AND REBLOGS. COMMENTS WELCOME! Secrets Masterlist

     It was then when Chibs realized just how much (Y|N) didn’t know about her own family, how much her parents had kept from her. He studied her face for a moment.      “What does the name ‘Teller’ mean to ye?” he finally asked.      Her expression remained blank of recognition other than, “Just that I was supposed to be at Teller-Morrow yesterday morning per my dad’s request.”      “Christ, lass, do ye not know your mother’s maiden name?”      “Quinn,” she said not understanding what he was saying.      He sat back in the folding chair and sighed, exasperated with Debbie and she wasn’t even there. Picking up his whiskey, he took a gulp. (Y|N) must have sensed what was coming because she took a long drink from her rum, too.      “Yer ma’s a real piece of work,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. The secrets went back further than he thought. He looked into (Y|N)’s (Y|E|C) eyes, “Sweetheart, Quinn was your gran’s name. Debbie was a Teller. Debbie’s older brother, your uncle, was John Teller, founder of SAMCRO.”

     Your brain was spinning out of control. You knew that your parents had kept secrets from you, but you had no idea how deep that shit went. Your mom couldn’t even tell you the truth about her name. For god’s sake, you had an uncle you didn’t even know! If she was willing to hide that, there was no telling what else was waiting to be discovered.      You looked down at your plate. Most of your food was gone, thankfully. You didn’t want Chuckie thinking you didn’t like it. You wanted more rum, but your glass was empty. Chibs was already making a call when you looked up to ask him for more.      “Chuckie-boy, bring up the bottles…” he sighed, “…you can ask her when you bring the bottles. Just do it, will ya?”      Only a few moments later, you could hear Chuckie bounding up the stairs then a quick double-knock on the door. Chibs opened it to Chuckie holding two bottles tucked into his arm and as two-liter of Coke in the other. The smaller man bustled in and put the bottles on the counter then started clearing the dishes from dinner. You absently handed him dishes, but he was done before you really registered what was going on.      “You managed to say, “Thanks, Chuckie, it was good,” before he was out the door.      Chibs stood near you, his hands full with fresh drinks, “C’mon, lass,” his voice smooth like the whiskey he was drinking.      You followed him over to the two armchairs. He set the glasses down on the small round table that sat between the two chairs. Chibs flopped his long-tall body down into the one furthest away. You sat in silence for a moment, taking a few drinks from your glass.      “Just tell me Chibs, I can take it,” you finally said.

     Chibs told you everything he could think of that he’d pieced together throughout the years. He said that your dad had left school at 16 and hitchhiked out to California and landed in Charming where he met John Teller as he was setting up the Original 9. Your dad was only seventeen at the time and too young to join, so John, your uncle, put him to work in the auto shop. When he was old enough he was a prospect and patched into the club when he was nineteen.      Only a year later, he was drafted into the army and sent to Vietnam. When he got back two and a half years later, your dad met your mother, John’s much younger sister. Chibs said that according to your father, the attraction was instant and the match was approved of by John. They got married in ’78 and, as you knew, you came around in ’79.      It was when you were a baby that your mother started pushing your dad to get out of the club. He ran nomad for a few years hoping that would shut her up, but she kept pushing, wanting a normal life. It pissed off John that she was acting the way she was, especially since she knew what was going on the whole time. Finally, your dad had asked to be let out and the club, reluctantly agreed to it. Bud only had to do the books for the club and come back occasionally for special… projects and whatnot.      In the time it took for Chibs to get through the story of your parents, you’d     finished a full drink and half of another, putting your shot count around 5. Your eyes were very heavy, and your ears were buzzing, but you weren’t quite fully drunk.

     He looked over at (Y|N) fighting to stay awake. He’d hoped it was just being on the road all day, having a full stomach and booze that were doing it and not him. He got up out of his chair and went over to her, shaking her shoulder. “Get up, lass,” he told her.      “This damn chair wants to keep me,” she joked.      He helped her stand up and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, looking up into his face, “You sure are a handsome man.” She put her other hand on his cheek.      He liked the feel of her pressed against him her hand on his face. He leaned into her touch, “Aye? Is that so?” She nodded. “Yer a right bonny lass, yerself.”      He led her into his bedroom and had her sit on the bed. “Get your clothes off, (Y|N). I’ll get you something to put on.”      “Wait a minute, what about the motel? Where will you sleep?” she asked.      He found one of his old SAMCRO shirts and handed it to her. “Neither one of us is in any shape to ride, and I’ll be sleeping in my bed.”      He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. He’d barely slept in the last two days and he needed sleep as much as she did. When he came back out, he was somewhat surprised to find her wearing the shirt he’d given her and lying awake in bed, the light still on. He went to his side of the bed and pulled back the covers and got in.      “Married couples lie in the same bed all the time and don’t touch for years,” he spoke softly.      She rolled on her side to look at him and he did the same.      “Maybe it’s me you should worry about,” she was flirting again.      As much as he liked it, he had to remind himself that she was Bud’s daughter, it was almost too much that she was in the same bed. He’d reasoned with himself that he was too old to be sleeping on the floor or in one of those godawful armchairs. He wanted her, but not like this.      “I’ll not have ye when yer drunk, (Y|N),” he murmured. He didn’t want to say anything further. If he was going to have her, he wanted her with a clear head and not confident on booze.      “I’m not drunk, Ch…. What the hell IS your name, anyway?” she asked.      “Filip,” he reached across her to turn off the lamp. His hand dropped to the bed next to her, “Filip Telford.” He put a quick kiss on her forehead and rolled away. He thought, for a moment, in the half-light from his lamp, that he saw a disappointed look on her face. Getting settled on his side, he turned out his own lamp. He laid awake until he was sure she was asleep, then went to take a cold shower.

March 15      Light was flooding in through the glass block window and your head was not happy about the intrusion. You hadn’t had more than your usual to drink, but the lack of water the day before had taken its toll. Opening your eyes was not an option. Oddly enough, you’d slept great and, at first, you thought it was the exhaustion and booze, but then you realized it wasn’t that at all. You were safe and you knew it and the reason was lying right behind you with his arm around your body, holding you close. Your mind flashed back to the night before, you had wanted him, but he’d made it clear he wouldn’t be having you when you were drunk.      There was a glass of water and some pills next to the glass. Gingerly, you reached for the pills and recognized the coloring as Advil. Chibs’ arm fell away and you grabbed the glass to down the pills.      Letting out a breath, “Oh bless him.”      You lifted his arm and tried to roll back into him, hoping you wouldn’t wake him up. The water helped with the dry mouth, but it wasn’t enough. You were just hoping to enjoy Chibs a little longer before he pushed you away again. But you needn’t have worried.      He nuzzled into your shoulder, not lifting his head. “Mornin’ love. Bless me for wha’?”      His breath and vibration of his voice sent goosebumps down your body. His arm tightened around you and you wiggled back into Chibs. He let out a groan that was very satisfying for you.      “You scared me,” you said quietly.      “Sorry. I didn’ wanna let ye go,” he whispered.      His words were music to your ears. You could have listened to him all day especially when he said sweet things. You rested your hand on his arm enjoying the feel of him behind you. He was warm, but not so much to make you uncomfortable. The Advil was starting to work.      “Bless you for the Advil,” you mumbled. You laid there a moment and just touched the skin on his arms. “You know, for a guy who didn’t want to take advantage, I was not expecting to wake up like this.”      He was quiet for a beat, “It couldn’t be helped, you hog the covers.”      “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” you giggled under your breath.      “You good? We need to get going if we’re gonna get work done t’day,” he kissed the skin just under your earlobe.      “UUUGGHHHH,” you groaned, “Fuck work!”      Chibs kissed your neck this time but he took the security of his arms away and slapped your ass as he got out of bed. “I definitely like you, (Y|N).” He started walking toward the kitchenette, “But honest work is hard work.”      “Don’t I know it,” you grumbled as you pulled yourself up to sitting. Jesus, your head said it had been longer than you thought since you’d tied one on. The Advil was working, but not enough or quick enough. You leaned against the wall and sipped at the water Chibs had brought you at some point in the night. Closing your eyes against the light, you sat there willing your stomach to settle as well as your headache. You took another sip.      When your glass was empty you were finally feeling better. Carefully, you put your feet on the floor and were pleased to find that the world was spinning at its normal speed again. You slowly walked out into the kitchen and were graced with the sight of a tall Scot making breakfast, wearing a wife-beater and boxer-briefs that showed off legs that probably never saw the light of day. Might have been the cutest damned thing you’d ever seen.

     After he’d taken his cold shower, he’d thought to get her some water and Advil for the headache he thought she would have in the morning. Riding hard all day and not eating, he figured, would leave her dehydrated. If not, then it was no big deal.      Of course, he’d already been awake when she woke. He was only awake for a few minutes before (Y|N). He thought she looked beautiful sleeping, the sun rising on her face. He’d faked sleep when she woke and made it tough for her to roll away. He hadn’t lied, he didn’t want to let her go. It had been a long time since he’ had a woman in his bed who wanted to be there, a woman he wanted to still be in his bed when he woke in the morning.      He really hadn’t meant to cuddle into her. He really hated that word, “cuddle.” It was so, sugary and cute, when what he was doing was more visceral for him. He was claiming her for himself, even in his sleep. She fit into his body in just the right way. He could bury his face in her hair, smell her, kiss her bare skin and he barely had to move. Her hair had smelled like his shampoo, but her skin was different, it wasn’t the smell of his soap like he’d been expecting. The smell she had was like…sunshine and coconut.      He hadn’t felt right about having sex with her when she was drunk, but he had wanted her, and badly. He’d wanted her right from the start, even before she’d flirted with him on the street. He’d been taken with her as soon as she’d walked into his office…before he knew she was Bud’s daughter. That was something he was going to have to sort out.      She hadn’t panicked when she woke in his arms and that had made him happier than he could admit. She’d just grabbed the Advil and drank some water. The best part was that she wanted to wrap up in him again.

     The tiny kitchenette had an apartment-sized range that could barely accommodate the three burners on the top, but that was where Chibs was making scrambled eggs. Thank god, your stomach was settling down. Fortunately, he’d already made some toast and was eating some while he scrambled. He saw you coming once you got a little closer.      “Did ya sleep well, love?” he asked.      I sure like it when he calls me that. “Yeah, I did. Better than I have in a long time,” you admitted.      The economy-sized range faced the outer wall with the small refrigerator to the right. The counter that had the sink stretched along the other wall to the left of the range. You refilled your glass from the tap, took a long drink, refilled again and leaned on the counter near Chibs so you could talk to him.      “Hope you like scrambled,” he said munching on some toast. “There’s more behind you. Help yourself, whatever you need,” He wiggled the toast in his hand and stirred the eggs.      You turned around to see a stack of toast under a towel. It looked like he toasted half a loaf. You easily found the plates and pulled out two. There was a drawer underneath the cupboard that had the silverware and you got out a set for both of you. In the refrigerator, you found a generous amount of beer and condiments. You grabbed the butter.      “You want jelly?” you asked him.      His gaze shifted from the eggs to your ass then back to the eggs, “Mmm.”      You took that as a ‘yes’ and grabbed the jelly, too. You put two pieces on each plate and made yours how you like. Chibs finished the eggs and pushed some onto each plate. It was like you had done this very thing every morning together. The strangeness of it all was not lost on you. You’d just spent the night with a man who wouldn’t touch you out of respect both for you and for your father, and yet, you’d woken up in his arms. It had been a very intimate evening and you felt strangely close, comfortable, with this man and you really liked him a lot.      After breakfast, you’d gone back into his room to get ready for work. As it turned out, he hadn’t been looking at your ass earlier, he’d seen the scar on your leg. You knew he was watching as you faced the glass block window as you put on your bra, your back bare.

     She’d said she’d hurt her back as a kid, but it looked something serious had happened. No wonder she had been stiff after riding.      “Christ, (Y|N),” he gasped. “What the hell happened?”      She hooked her bra in front then spun it round and put the straps over her shoulders. Her hands on her hips, she turned to face Chibs.      “When I was 17, I was chasing a speed demon,” she gave a rueful smile. “Bitch won.” She grabbed her Led Zeppelin shirt and pulled it on.      “Are ye alrigh’?” he asked, knowing it was a stupid question.      “Yeah, it just hurts sometimes if I ride too hard,” she explained. “When does the audit start?”      He sighed, “Few weeks.”      “Much as I’d like to spend the day with you,” she said stepping closer to him, “I do have an obligation to keep your ass out of the fire.”      She ran her hands up his arms and he pulled her tightly to his body. She gave him the smile that he knew he would never resist and, god help him if she ever figured it out. Her hands went up over his shoulders to his neck, her gaze on his lips. He didn’t need much more prompting from her, but her hand lightly pressed on the back of his head and that was all he needed.

     His mouth met yours, finally, and you were in heaven. He kissed you with an intensity you weren’t expecting. His hold on you tightened and one hand went to your ass and grabbed you. His kiss was urgent and full of lust, but restrained, like he didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t okay with you. When you finally broke away, you ran your fingers through his hair and touched his face, giving him light kisses on his lips.      You looked up into his eyes, your hand resting on his cheek. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He put his hand over yours and pulled it away breaking the trance you were both in.      Taking a deep breath, “We’ll finish this conversation later, lass.”      “Damn right we will,” you agreed. He gave you a swat on the ass and led you out of the apartment and down to his bike.

[gpm-maam]

Puzzlement #62

There were 11 responses to Puzzlement #61, 9 had the correct answer, but the first one, submitted by Stephen Stuart was: 2, 7, 5 . Dave Hoffman was second and Steven Sutlief was third.

On to the puzzle:

Consistency Towers consists of four apartment buildings in a row.  Each tower contains either truth tellers or liars.  Each building had a sign that explained about the veracity of the residents of the building.  The signs are labeled A, B, C, and D which did not necessarily correspond to the left-to-right order of the buildings.  Unfortunately some juvenile delinquent has switched the signs around.  They say:

A)  Exactly one end apartment houses truth tellers.

B)  The apartment to the right houses truth tellers.

C)  Any apartment next to this one houses liars.

D)  No apartment next to this one houses liars.

In the correct arrangement sign B is to the left of D but not next to it and A is not next to sign C.  What is the correct arrangement of the signs left to right?

To submit an answer, click HERE or send it to editor@phoenixmensa.org

[Ed Note - Last week’s “HERE” link incorrectly inserted the wrong Puzzlement #60. The Editor has been suitably flogged by the Grumpy Puzzlement Maven who is actually looking for a replacement to come up with the weekly Puzzlements and flogging of the Editor. Any takers?]

[maciek-jozefowicz]

How Many Goals?

[ This truth-tellers-and-liars logic puzzle, appearing in “My Silly Puzzles” book, was inspired by my nephew Jay, who is an excellent high school soccer player. ]

The score was zero-zero, until Jay turned into a superhero. He scored and scored, and scored some more, no soccer ever scored so much before. The ref went deaf and nearly blind, and almost lost his mind. The fans went berserk, and many skipped work, the following day, after going far astray from watching their hero display moves worthy of Russian ballet—“He was like a dancer! Those guys couldn’t find an answer. He would shake and shimmy, and flutter and stutter, and carve their defense like knife through a butter.”

So just how many goals did he score? Two? Three? Four? Or five or six? Or seven? Good heaven!

The game’s Referee, upholding a college degree, always tells the truth, even of his distant youth, and he can accurately account, no matter the amount.

The opposing Goalie, grim and unholy, always lies, and offers his frustrated fans all kinds of shady alibis—“The sun shone into my eyes and the ball disappeared, veered and reappeared inside the goal. It must have gone through a black hole.”

Jay’s Teammate sometimes tells the truth, and sometimes not. It all depends on who are the foes, who are the friends, and who took the shot. “Jay is a jock. He lives for soccer (in his girlfriend’s locker). He has reached a higher level. Some say by selling his soul to the devil. So what if he did. Do the rules forbid?”

Antonio: “Corleole is the Goalie and he let in five goals and cursed and almost burst from shame. How lame! Like a duck dumbstruck. The crowd roared, as Jay scored, over and over and over, like a five-leaf clover, with that magic left foot and those golden five toes, those toes no goalie dare oppose.”

Corleole: “Wait! Wait! I’m not the goalie, I’m his teammate, and I scored four. That’s two, it’s true, more than what Jay scored. I deserve an MVP award. And the Golden Boot. And a Silver Salute from all the chicks that admired my kicks from the stands, waving their hands and blowing kisses.” [Corleole happily reminisces.]

Bandito: “Antonio is the ref. And he hasn’t gone deaf, or blind. And he hasn’t yet lost his mind. He gives out reds and yellows to them rule-breaking fellows. And he is strict and easily ticked and will not yield to no jock on the field. But he errs when he swears that Jay scored only five. Not while I’m alive! Jay scored eight, that’s why Jay’s so great and why every girl begs him for a date.”

[thescienceofdeductionandmore]

The Neat Solution to the Benders and the Zoidbergs problem

To remind you, here’s the problem:

A sailor was caught in a bad storm while sailing, and she washed up on the shore of Smullyland. All the people on this island belong to one of 2 families: the Benders and the Zoidbergs. Members of the Bender family are incapable of telling the truth; members of the Zoidberg family are incapable of lying.

As our hero walked across the island she met 2 locals named Bob and Joe (who were friends; each knew which family the other was from). Joe told her where to find a boat that could get her off the island, and she wanted to know if what he said was true. She asked Bob: “Do both of you belong to the Zoidberg family?” Bob answered either “yes” or “no” (I won’t say which), but at this point she didn’t have enough information to determine which family Joe was from. Then she asked Joe: “Do you two belong to the same family?” Joe answered either “yes” or “no” (I won’t say which), but after hearing his answer she knew with no ambiguity which family Joe was from and thus whether he had told the truth about the boat. Was Joe telling the truth about the boat? 

Our hero has perfect reasoning ability- she will always solve a puzzle as soon as there is enough information, and she is never wrong in answering a puzzle.

Solution:

This is not a hard problem, but it requires you to take it step by step logically.

1.  Make it easier to follow.  Call the Benders “liars” and the Zoidbergs “truth tellers”.

2.  Bob speaks first.  He was asked if they’re both truth tellers.  He either says “yes” or “no”.  After he speaks, the problem was not yet solved.

3.  Assume he says “no”.

If he’s a liar, then that would mean they’re both truth tellers. But that’s a contradiction, since he’s a liar.  So he can’t say “no” if he’s a liar.  If he said “no” he’s a truth teller.

If he’s a truth teller, then “no” can only mean that he’s a truth teller and Joe’s a liar. There’s no other possibility. Which means if Bob says “no” the problem is solved.  But since we know the problem was not solved after Bob answered, Bob must have said “yes”, not “no”.

4. Bob answered “yes”.

If Bob is a truth teller and answered “yes” that means they’re both truth tellers.

Possibility A

Bob–truth teller/Joe–truth teller

If Bob is a liar and answered “yes”, that means Bob is a liar and Joe is either a liar or a truth teller.

Possibility B

Bob–Liar/Joe–truth teller

Possibility C

Bob-Liar/Joe–Liar.

6. Those are the 3 possibilities that existed when Joe was asked if they both belong to the same family.  Joe either answered “yes” or “no”.

7.  Assume Joe answered “no”.

If he’s a truth-teller, that means Joe is a truth teller and Bob is a liar. That is Possibility B on our list and could have happened.

If he’s a liar, that means they must both be from the same family and must both be liars. That’s Possibility C on our list and could have happened.

In other words, if Joe said “no”, that is consistent with two possibilities and the problem would still not be solved.  Since we know the problem is solved after Joe spoke, Joe could not have said “no”.

8.  We now know Joe must have said “yes”, but let’s test it to see if it works.

9.   Let’s say Joe said “yes”.

If Joe is a liar, that would mean Joe’s a liar and Bob’s a truth teller.  But that possibility is not on our list, meaning it’s not logically possible.  So Joe must be a truth teller.

If Joe is a truth teller and said “yes”, that means they are both truth tellers.  That is our Possibility A, and it is the only possibility that is logically consistent with the facts.

Solution: Bob and Joe are both Zoidbergs and Joe told the truth about the boat.   

[izzipuzzle]

Various Types of Puzzles

Do you know how many types of puzzles exist? The answer depends on what you consider as a puzzle.

A puzzle is an intuitive game that serves both purposes of entertaining and educating. They also help to sharpen your cognitive skills and expand your vocabulary. Below is a list of some of the best puzzles to play.

Crossword Puzzles

This type of puzzle is the most common among players. Crosswords encourage the players to explore their imagination and transport a person to a whole new world.  They come to inform of a grid that consists of blanks and squares.

Crosswords puzzles come in different variations like cryptic puzzles, barred grids, blocked grids, and Thematic.

Jigsaw Puzzles                

A jigsaw puzzle is an image that has been cut up into pieces and needs to be reassembled. It is any set of varied, irregular-shaped pieces when assembled to form a picture or a map.

Examples of jigsaw puzzles include nature puzzles, movie lovers’ puzzles, underwater floor puzzles, animal puzzles like a cat jigsaw puzzle, puppy jigsaw puzzles, and majestic park puzzles.

Word Search Puzzles

Word search puzzles are much more fun than other types of puzzles. They come in the form of square grids filled with letters, some with clues and others with themes. Players must locate several words within the grid and they might go upwards and downwards.

Brainteasers

Brain teasers are puzzles that are logical and require thought to be solved. It is a question, problem, or puzzle that is difficult to solve. They challenge your cognitive abilities and no pen or paper is required to solve them. Different types of brain teasers include syllogisms, riddles, truth-tellers, and liars.

Other types of puzzles that can help you pass time include; logic puzzles, word jumbles, semantic games, rebus puzzles, ciphers, anagram, and many more.

[mathematicianadda]

Meta Logic

Here is a logic puzzle.

Puzzle. You are visiting an island where all people know each other. The islanders are of two types: truth-tellers who always tell the truth and liars who always lie. You meet three islanders—Alice, Bob, and Charlie—and ask each of them, “Of the two other islanders here, how many are truth-tellers?” Alice replies, “Zero.” Bob replies, “One.” What will Charlie’s reply be?

The solution proceeds as follows. Suppose Alice is a truth-teller. Then Bob and Charlie are liars. In this situation Bob’s statement is true, which is a contradiction. Hence, Alice is a liar. It follows, that there is at least one truth-teller between Bob and Charlie. Suppose Bob is a liar. Then the statement that there is one truth-teller between Alice and Charlie is wrong. It follows that Charlie is a liar. We have a contradiction again. Thus, Alice is a liar and Bob is a truth-teller. From Bob’s statement, we know that Charlie must be a truth-teller. That means, Charlie says “One.”

But here is another solution suggested by my students that uses meta considerations. A truth-teller has only one possibility for the answer, while a liar can choose between any numbers that are not true. Even if we assume that the answer is only one of three numbers—0, 1, or 2—then the liar still has two options for the answer. If Charlie is a liar, there can’t be a unique answer to this puzzle. Thus, the puzzle question implies that Charlie is a truth-teller. It follows that Alice must be lying and Bob must be telling the truth. And the answer is the same: Charlie says, “One.”

Share: from Tanya Khovanova's Math Blog https://ift.tt/35ONbiU from Blogger https://ift.tt/2PNTa1E

[educationaldm]

More truth-tellers and liars. Puzzle from the UKMT  http://www.ukmt.org.uk