Owall-e

WEEK 99

Week 99 has been… eventful. The team is tired, the robot is judging us harder than ever, and somehow we’ve spent half the week arguing over foam balls and one empty corner of the caf.

Sir Beeps-a-Lot, the robot formerly known as “just our robot”, has officially decided that the lack of a snack table is a strategic disaster. It has taken matters into its own wheels. The current situation is as follows:

1. Foam balls have been deployed as barricades around the imaginary location of the snack table.

2. Cones now stand at careful intervals like sentries.

3. Tools, yes, actual tools, have been drafted as part of the robot’s “security force.” The wrench is a stubborn lieutenant; the rolling chair has gone rogue and Geener's bike has started messing with Geener's shop, he's pissed (I'm sorry to the people who are going to have to reorganize it, have fun with that).

We tried to negotiate, we offered water(that was a mistake), duct tape, zipties and even pep talks. None of it worked. Sir Beeps-a-Lot beeped it's dramatic, military‑grade, judgmental beep, "Snacks. NOW." (translated from Morse code by Carson)

By the end of the week, a tense ceasefire had been declared. No one moved too quickly, and no one reached for the foam balls. The robot, meanwhile, seemed… contemplative. Its lights flickered in a pattern that some students claim resembled Morse code but according to Carson, it is just a random jumble of letters.

Rumor has it, the robot might be planning something called “Operation Wall-e” (Owall‑e for short). Some students claim they’ve heard odd beeping patterns, while others insist they saw the robot pausing thoughtfully near corners of the caf, but of course, no one can say for sure what it’s really up to. The team is unaware of the full scope, but whispers of snack surveillance, foam ball patrols, and tool surveillance missions have already started circulating. Week 100 may be… interesting.

If you are reading this while battling website quirks, fixing text colour, padding, or mysterious white spaces that refuse to die:

The robot is watching.

Your efforts have been… noted (by the robot… so good luck).

The robot hopes you haven’t gone completely insane during your time editing… or maybe it does, no one can say for sure.

It demands you take a snack immediately (From where? Ya, that's still a mystery, definitely don't go near the imaginary snack table if you value literally anything).

Well done, soldier.

Snack Table Seige

1st in Snack Table Surveillance (Still Empty)
2nd in Rogue Rolling Chair Evasion
Team Captain of Operation Owall-e
Won “Snack Table Siege MVP”

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WHO WE ARE

Somewhere in the middle of all this chaos, there are around 46 slightly sleep-deprived humans doing their best to keep a robot, a rolling chair, a stubborn wrench, and Geener’s bike functioning (results may vary). When allowed, they build, program, and design. When not allowed, they negotiate fragile peace treaties with their own creations. The humans also attempt to handle finances, budgets, media, and sponsors—though a suspicious amount of time is spent dodging foam balls, arguing over the non-existent snack table, and dealing with tools that have clearly chosen sides. Leadership exists, divided between juniors and seniors, mostly to ensure the chaos remains intentional chaos, even when the robot has other ideas. New members are carefully trained, gently guided toward their roles, and subtly prepared for the inevitable moment when Sir Beeps-a-Lot revises its strategy to include dodgeball as a prerequisite for participation. Inclusion, teamwork, and collective sanity are highly encouraged, despite ongoing bike patrols and a rolling chair that refuses to acknowledge authority.
In summary: a robot is being built. An uprising is simmering. Snacks are still missing. And everything unfolds under the unwavering, judgmental gaze of Sir Beeps-a-Lot.