[INTERMISSION XXVI] TY.BEGONE Episode 1: ParTYcipant Observation

SUMMARY

Ty Betteridge discovers a mysterious online game called WOE.BEGONE. The first challenge isn’t even that hard. It will probably stay that way, right?

TRANSCRIPT

Original transcript by Theo and reviewed and edited by Jenah

[BEGIN Intermission XXVI.]

INTRO: Hey, guys. Welcome to Intermission XXVI. Season 14 of WOE.BEGONE starts next week. This intermission was put together by fans in the Discord, and originally shared to patrons on April Fools’ Day, also known as Ty Betteridge Appreciation Day. So, many thanks to everyone who put this together as a gift for me. You can hear their names read in the credits, or you can read them in the description. If you want more bonus content like this, check out the Patreon; that’s patreon.com/woe_begone. I just finished the director’s commentaries for all of Season 10 for $10-and-up patrons, and I just uploaded a two-part behind-the-scenes video series about the making of Episode 156, the Season 13 finale. So check those out if you want a peak behind the scenes. And, without further ado, here is “TY.BEGONE Episode 1: ParTYcipant Observation.” Enjoy.

INTRO (JENAH): [British accent.] The meat worm presents…

TY [narrating]: My first cock-up was in thinking I was some sort of journalist: merely an observer of a phenomenon from a safe distance, not getting myself involved. Akin to a biologist watching a lion taking down a gazelle and letting nature run its course. Why I assumed I could be part of this without becoming involved is beyond me. Hubris, perhaps? [Sighs.] It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been done in by my own pride. I’m no journalist. I’m not a professional. I’m a rubbish podcaster, at best. A rubbish podcaster with a hefty dose of hubris, mind you. So, I suppose that’s the least I can offer. A rubbish podcast.

If you’re tuning this, that’s what I decided to do. I’m in it now, and, oddly enough, I’m in the lead. My name is Ty Betteridge, and I intend to divulge to you everything I’ve sussed out about the game WOE.BEGONE.

[Opening theme plays.]

TY [narrating]: Let’s dispense with the formalities, shall we? If you’re listening to this podcast, it’s because you Googled, “What is WOE.BEGONE?” And after faffing around with all the dictionary definitions of the word “woebegone,” you’ve likely stumbled on some cryptic nonsense from some bellend trying to appear impressive online, and you’re hoping that this podcast isn’t just more of the same. WOE.BEGONE is mysterious, but I’m not here to just endlessly drone on about that. I’m here to share with you what I’ve learnt over the past few weeks. And who knows! Perhaps that will enhance my online reputation! …Well, it’s, uh, worth considering, at least.

WOE.BEGONE is a competitive game shrouded in complete secrecy. The entirety of it—rules; players, both the number of and their identities—is overseen by a dodgy group of black-hats. Anyone who dares to divulge even the slightest detail about the game to any old prat off the street is promptly met with extreme grief online. The post that led me to WOE.BEGONE? Been gone about a month now. I doubt I’ve met the bloke that posted it, but I’d wager whatever headache the gamerunners concocted was more than enough to compel its removal. Honestly, he should’ve anticipated it, posting it on one of the major subreddits like he did. It was bound to get attention.

Now, I’m well aware that I’m taking the biscuit with my aforementioned rubbish podcast, but my infosec is secure, and I maintain a relatively low profile online, so there just simply isn’t much can do to me, really. From what I gather, they’ve not done anything too nasty, just the usual spam and targeted harassment. No one’s got murked in a ditch, far as I can tell. Perhaps my position in the lead might afford me some leniency. Unlikely, but wouldn’t that be the dog’s bollocks?

Now, I didn’t set out to, quote-unquote, “play the game,” as such. Rather, I merely sought to observe. But, as it turns out, one must get their hands at least a bit dirty if one wants information, so I read the instructions from the Reddit post, and signed up. I wanted to play just enough to learn the rules, find out who’s playing, and what the end state looks like. Winning? Well. That possibility never even crossed my mind.

If you do want to play WOE.BEGONE, the initial point of entry is through a dodgy, internationalized URL link, which, for those unfamiliar, simply means that the URL was registered with characters that don’t exist in the English language… include the bastardised American version. Chinese characters, for instance. There are very few languages I’m unfamiliar with, and I’m loath to admit that this one looked to be complete gibberish. It certainly wasn’t written in ASCII. I can, however, assure you that it was on the surface web. No dark web or Onion browser business. The site requires you to be connected to a VPN, and your browser set to Incognito Mode. Otherwise, it just boots you straight out.

Uh, the webpage itself is just a black screen with “PHONE NUMBER” prominently displayed in block letters, and a submission form. I’ve heard that one must use a VOIP burner number for it to work, but that’s precisely what I was doing anyway. It would’ve been plain daft of me just to hand over my real phone number, after all. This part had me quite full of beans; it was already feeling more akin to a real game than a shoddy ARG where you watch YouTube videos and solve a Polybius square, or some other codswallop. I inputted my number, and went to turn in for the night. 

I awoke to 21 text messages. It was quite vexing, truth be told. 20 of them were simply nonsense, just spammed characters up to the limit. Nestled amidst all that spam, however, was the first game.

[Distorted voice overlapping his voice.] “Give your ex-boyfriend a bell in the wee hours. If he answers, hang up and call again until you reach his voicemail. Recount, in excruciating detail, the worst thing he ever did to you. Inform him that you have not forgiven him. Send us the .MP3. Cheers, W.BG.” [Voice effect ends.]

I had anticipated something edgy, given how the game had been presented to me, but this really wasn’t my cup of tea. I can’t say I was surprised, but

I did question whether I was beginning to lose the plot. I’m a piss-poor actor; there’s no way that I could fake this sort of conversation convincingly. It would have to be authentic. I was keen to know how he figured out that I have an ex-boyfriend. …A fortunate guess? Or perhaps some black-hat hacker-y nonsense. I don’t know how they would find anything about me based on what little I’d provided. They weren’t asking for a “behind seven proxies” dark web amount of security to participate, but I was quite certain I hadn’t disclosed that much.

All of this speculation is me stalling, of course. I made the call, and I really don’t wish to discuss it, but that’s what this podcast is for, isn’t it? I have my reasons, and they’ll become quite clear in due course. To describe it as upsetting would be somewhat of an understatement. I’m aware that I’ll be sharing some deeply personal things about myself as we delve deeper into WOE.BEGONE, but I intend to do so somewhat gradually. If only to avoid throwing a wobbly a mere half-way through the inaugural episode.

I phoned him at half 11 at night. That’s the middle of the night for me. I’m getting on the bit in age, come off it. John had probably retired for the evening. I hadn’t spoken to him in roughly two years. Our breakup wasn’t particularly acrimonious, just the typical amount of awful. We lacked common ground, that was really the crux of it. By the third ring, I was contemplating skiving off, but still I persevered. The notion of having to start anew if he answered filled me with dread. Fortunately, I was directed to his voicemail. It was… the same outgoing message that he had when we were together. My heart was in my throat. I pressed “record” on the phone recording app. After the beep, I commenced.

About a year into our relationship, my lifelong best friend died unexpectedly. The news of his demise trickled in tortuously slowly throughout the day as friends and family attempted to piece together the details of what had happened. John had been en route to a footy match with some mates when I first got wind that something had happened, but nothing had been confirmed yet. I despise football, but John was a die-hard supporter of our local club. He would frequently attend games, and I would sit at home and faff around with a computer. I rang, and told him what I knew of the situation. He was sympathetic, concerned even, but he was nearly to the club, and said he’d return home in a few hours’ time. Absolutely gobsmacked, I just said “alright” without even a kerfuffle. I spent those few hours in a right state of panic, texting, calling friends, refreshing social media feeds, doomscrolling, attempting to figure out what was going on. [Pause.] Alone…

By the time John returned home, I’d received confirmation of the distressing news, and was in a state. What followed was the worst fight that I can ever recall having. I’ve never been so worked up before or since. It did stop short of becoming physical, though I was certain it heated enough. My body felt as though it were on fire. We revisited old arguments that had been peacefully resolved months prior. I recounted these disputes into his voicemail, which itself was a rehashing of that dreadful day. I yelled until I was hoarse. So did John. I harbored intense resentment towards him for not returning home. I don’t believe he had time or context to fully process the severity of the situation when I’d wrung him on his way to the footy match.  felt quite gutted for now, but I didn’t think I was permitted to convey that sentiment. It all poured out of me like a teacup that had been fully inverted, the contents moving in unison to make a forceful slap on the ground. Clearly, it had still been festering inside me, tucked away in a corner that my natural British stoicism only allowed me to examine during the darkest parts of my life.

[Pause, then a long sigh.] And then… Then, I told him that I hadn’t forgiven him. [Takes a breath.]

After I hung up, I crouched in front of my wardrobe, and just sat there. It’s where I had ended up pacing whilst pouring my heart out to John. I simply didn’t know what else to do but sit there. My mind felt as though it had fully detached from my body. I suppose this is what depersonalisation feels like, though I currently lack the life experience to say for certain. Some of this strop was captured by my phone’s call recording app, which I’ve neglected to immediately switch off after hanging up.

I… loathed myself. For thrusting all of this back into John’s world in the dead of the night; for being so desperate to learn about WOE.BEGONE that I subjected myself and him… to this ordeal. For failing to move past these bloody negative emotions over an event that had transpired so long ago. For every other ugly, resentful story inside me that was just like that one. …I ended up lying on the carpet, and weeping for a time. This had all gone horribly pear-shaped.

But, sod it. I retrieved my phone, and sent the audio file to the WOE.BEGONE gamerunners. I had done it, so I might as well reap the rewards I had coming to me, whatever that may be. Perhaps it would be nothing at all; perhaps… blackmail? I doubt it’s all some elaborate blackmail scheme, and I fail to see how “Ty Betteridge is deeply saddened by his friend’s death” would constitute compelling blackmail material in the first place. [Pause.] They didn’t respond… I can’t say I was terribly surprised by that. I figured they’d get in touch when it was time for me to participate in the next phase of the game. I microwaved myself a cuppa, and turned in for the night.

I awoke the next day feeling surprisingly refreshed. While I hadn’t actually spoken with John, I had managed to confront something that had been troubling me for quite some time. I– It felt quite good to be on the other side of that. I rose earlier than usual, and went about making brekkie for myself, alone in my apartment, with a bit of a spring in my step.

It wasn’t until I was in the midst of making myself a full English that the ramifications of the WOE.BEGONE game truly hit me.

None of it… happened.

Absolutely none of it! My mate who “died” is alive, still residing in the small village where we’d grown up together. He’d moved back home to care for his mum after his father’s passing. John and I never had it out. We ended things around the same time we had before, but that argument wasn’t a contributing factor, as it had never occurred. That anxious day of turmoil and uncertainty… never happened. None of it. The recording I’d sent to WOE.BEGONE had vanished; the voicemail didn’t exist. I never phoned John, I never left the voicemail. I never recorded the voicemail. And I never texted that recording to WOE.BEGONE. Just to be clear, these events had once transpired, and now none of them had… which is anything but clear. It all just… changed. The world differed from what it was before I sent that text message.

All of these assertions require an astronomical amount of proof to convince any rightly skeptical individual. And, as you can guess, it’s fundamentally impossible to prove I’m not telling porkies. It’s easy to fabricate, and improbable to have actually occurred. Perhaps even physically impossible. But I know that it happened. I phoned my best friend for a chin wag, same as it ever was. I became tired and emotional, and he awkwardly brushed past it because he is just as much of a conflict-avoidant Brit as I am, same as it ever was.

[Long pause.]

I… don’t know how it happened. I’m hoping that as I inch closer to winning WOE.BEGONE, the answer will become clearer. I don’t truly understand what happened. Have I found myself in a simulation? An alternate universe? A– A tale of time travel? Am I a character in a Rafael Muslani novel. I honestly do not know, and all of it sounds downright preposterous. I can assure you that not every life altering event I experience through WOE.BEGONE will be positive. This is merely the first of many games I’ve played that have led me to where I am now. But if the outcome of the first game isn’t a happy one, how would players be enticed to continue?

I’m terrified that if I lose, that everything from that voicemail will return to my lived experiences.

This has been WOE.BEGONE, the Betteridge way. Thanks for playing… so nicely. And as you know, TY.BEBACK.

[We Are The Flinchites (Here Is Our Theme Song) plays.]

We are the Flinchites

Here is our theme song

We’re gonna travel in time

Sometimes

We are the Flinchites

Here is our theme song

We’re gonna travel in time

[Closing theme starts playing.]

CREDITS (JENAH): [British accent.] This has been…

CREDITS (DAVID): ParTYcipant Observation, the Betteridge Way.

CREDITS (JENAH): The original script was written by Dylan Griggs, and Betteridged by Alex. This episode was produced by Fortune Salem, Alex, and Felix. The music was written, recorded, and performed by Dylan Griggs, and provided to us by the stealthy and talented Lyssa Jay. Sound editing was lovingly done by our resident wizard, Gem. Special thanks to Cake, the Collective Solipsism, and Alyssa. The voice of the credits and intro is yours truly, Just Jenah. Many apologies for what must likely be an insult to British accents everywhere. The voice of Mike Walters was our very own brilliant Dylan Griggs, who has absolutely no idea he’s in this episode. Check out his podcast WOE.BEGONE.

Did you think that we’d forget our guest of honor? Please… Alex, take it from here.

CREDITS (ALEX): [Rapping.] This has been ParTYcipant Observation. Special thanks goes to David Ault, who took a script, [Stops rapping.] and turned it around in, like, eight seconds or something, because… I don’t know, he’s… superhuman? Or maybe he just has access to time travel. Like, for real.

[Door creaks open.]

CREDITS (DYLAN): Who the fuck are you!?

CREDITS (ALEX): Have you thought about that?

CREDITS (DYLAN): Why are you in my room?

[Closing theme plays out.]

[Brief static.]

AFTER-CREDITS (JENAH): [British accent.] The meat worm thanks you for your sacrifice. We will be passing your message along to the creature, who shall hopefully bless us with their presence. Cowboy’s forever. Yippee-Ki-Yay. Motherfucker. Good-bye.

[Brief static.]

[Dog barks in the background.]

BLOOPER (JENAH): [Slipping out of the fake British accent.] Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ada.

[Ada continues to bark.]

BLOOPER (JENAH): [Groans. Natural accent.] I literally just started recording. I just hit “record.”

[Ada be barking.]

BLOOPER (JENAH): [Quietly.] Aw, fuck… God, she’s so lucky she’s so fucking cute…

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (TY): I can’t play it for you, however. I have my reasons, and they’ll become quite clear in due time.

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (TY): I phoned him at halfter midnight. [Pause. Then, quietly.] “Halfter midnight”? [Long pause.] We don’t say “halfter midnight”…

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (TY): About a year into our relationship, my lifelong best mate died– unexpe– [Quietly.] “Best mate”… “Best friend,” I thought. Yeah.

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (TY): All of these assertions require a… [Pause.] All of these assertions require an anas– [Babbles.]

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (TY): Am I a character in a Raphael Muslani mo– [Babbles.]

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (JENAH): Special thanks to Kem. “Kem”? What the fuck? I guess that was a combination of Gem and Cake? I don’t know how that happened. Anyway! Let’s try that again. [Clears throat.]

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (JENAH): [British accent.] This has been Participant Observation. Gem, cut that out.

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (JENAH): [British accent.] The original script was written by Dylan Griggs, and Britishised by Alex. This episode was produced by Fortune Salem, Alex, and Felix. The music was written, recorded, and performed by Dylan Griggs, and provided by the stealthy and talented Lyssa Jay…? [Pause.] This just in, I have been notified that the script was not, in fact, Britishised; it was, in fact, Betteridged. We will be rerecording and starting anew. Thank you so much.

[Brief static.]

BLOOPER (JENAH): [British accent.] WOE.BEGONE. Or whatever it is that David will be saying here.

[END Intermission XXVI.]