In the last part of my “Surviving Kent State Diaries,” I, Quinn Schafer, a then-sophomore English major, was “marooned on an island” with 13 fellow castaways to compete for the title of sole survivor. I spent a Sunday afternoon in Bowman Hall being sorted into a tribe of fellow Kent State students to play “Kent State Survivor.” After a successful first outing where my tribe won our first challenge and I formed an alliance with fellow castaways Aiden and Kaden, my hopes are high and my eyes are set on the win. But first, I need to survive the second round.
My strategic success continues when I open my phone to a message from Aiden, asking to meet me for boba and to talk about the game.
The meeting is akin to a job interview. My palms are sweaty and my throat is tight with anxiety, but as we talk, I warm up to Aiden. They are exuberant with a sharp sense of humor and an inability to hold back an opinion on anything that raises their eyebrows. So, when they tell me they want to go to the end of the game with me, I agree — worse, I believe it.
I like to think I’m too shrewd to jump at the first alliance that is presented to me. Not so much.
Our next challenge is announced via video on Tuesday.
Kyle introduces it as “quite possibly the most arduous challenge we have devised for ‘Kent State Survivor.’” Comforting.
“It will test your ability to communicate, put yourself out there and organize things,” he says.
The challenge, called “100 Ways to Win Immunity,” is a list of 100 tasks that castaways can complete for points, and whichever tribe has the most points after 36 hours will win the challenge. I’m in my dorm at midnight on Tuesday with the Vuaka group chat open, waiting by my phone for the task list to drop.
The spreadsheet truly does have 100 tasks on it, including items like taking a tribe group photo, showering in your clothes, eating a lemon whole, acting like a squirrel in Acorn Alley, walking up every flight of stairs in the library, staging a public fight in the Kent State Student Center, painting the KSU rock, listing every “Survivor” contestant in order and building a human pyramid.
One task stands out to me as one only I can do: Writing an essay about why Flash is the sexiest college mascot. I mean, I am an English major.
I spend about half an hour cranking out a high school English teacher-approved essay about why Flash is sexy. My thesis statement reads: “At Kent State University, we are blessed to have the sexiest college mascot in the world: Flash. Flash’s amazing body, mischievous grin and silky feathers make him the most desirable mascot on the planet.”
Although Kyle promises a challenge to test our mettle, I experience far more fun than suffering in the 36 hours that follow. I have a dramatic fight with Aiden in the Student Center, paint the rock with Maeve, drive my tribe downtown for some roleplay in Acorn Alley, along with a tribe dinner, and play giant Jenga in the Rathskeller.
All is not harmonious in the tribe, however — in “Survivor,” the game never stops. Kay Budrovic, a then-junior psychology major, had multiple exams today and is absent for most of the tribe bonding activities, save the team dinner. From across the table, I share looks of derision with Aiden and Kaden when Kay announces they were the best at reciting the alphabet backward, which is a bonus task to win a hidden immunity idol clue.
Hidden immunity idols (usually just called idols for short) are a huge deal in “Survivor.” They are small, hidden treasures that can take the form of a necklace, bracelet, string of beads or tiny statue. Playing one guarantees survival at a tribal council, regardless of votes cast against you. As a result, having an idol, or even suspicion of having an idol, paints a huge target on a player’s back.
Big mistake, Kay.
Kay’s grave deepens when, on the drive back to campus, they give Kaden a tarot card reading to fulfill a task requirement. In an attempt to connect tarot to Survivor, Kay predicts that Kaden will betray someone or be betrayed during the game.
“I’m like, ‘What?’” Kaden later tells me. “Why would you say that in front of someone else? That’s strike number two. It’s like Kay’s behind me with red paint, painting a target on my back. Kay needs to go. I don’t want them here.”
Vuaka goes home for the evening at 8 p.m., content that, while we didn’t do every task, we did all that we reasonably could in a day.
The next morning, Kyle posts a video revealing the winners of our second challenge. He starts with Vuaka’s point total: 245. Not bad. Then, he announces Rarama’s total: 518.
It’s not just a loss; it is a morale-crushing, blow-out defeat.
“I didn’t think they had it in them like that,” I admit in a confessional. “We all underestimated Rarama. I’m not going to lie — we could’ve done more to win the challenge.”
Last round, as challenge winners, Vuaka had been spared from tribal council, but with our first loss comes our first chance for elimination. Kaden, Aiden, Mason and I agree to meet in a Tropical Smoothie Cafe where we sip smoothies and plot.
Aiden reveals that Kay has approached them about eliminating Mason for poor challenge performance — I think that’s interesting, coming from the person who was gone for 24 of the 36 hours in the last challenge.
Our little group, dubbed “The Smoothie Alliance,” agrees to vote for Kay. Their crimes may be few, but my allies want them gone, so I do, too.
Later, Kay asks me to meet. We chat in the library for almost an hour about all sorts of things — our hobbies, our majors, Kay’s senior honors thesis, my internship at the Honors College and, of course, why Mason should be eliminated.
I play along, and it’s easy. Kay has solid points: Mason didn’t contribute much to the first challenge, and he hasn’t gone out of his way to schedule strategy talks with anyone. Maybe, if I had talked to Kay first, it would be true when I tell them, “I’m voting for Mason tomorrow.”
I walk home feeling strangely guilty. Kay is just so cool and nice. I can see us being more than allies — genuine friends. The giddy rush of plotting over smoothies has fled, but I know that three others have already made their decision to vote for Kay. One thing you never do in Survivor: Go against the numbers when you’re already safe.
Tribal council is perhaps the most important event in Survivor. Every round, one tribe (or the entire merged tribe) gathers around a fire to discuss the game with the host. Then, the players privately cast votes for the castaway they want to be eliminated. The votes are read and, barring interference from an immunity idol, the player with the most votes is eliminated from the game.
Bonfires are banned inside the Student Center, so we sit around a podium while Kyle reads questions off his laptop. Once again, cameras watch us from several angles — it gets less jarring with frequency.
I don’t have any indication that anyone will be writing my name this round; I am well-connected and have shown myself well in challenges, but I am a sweaty, nervous wreck. As they say, you should never feel safe in “Survivor.”
Next to me, I watch Mason’s face grow increasingly red and his breathing get more labored as each contestant silently gets up to cast their votes.
No talking or phone usage is permitted during tribal council. I sit quietly and imagine all the ways I could’ve been deceived this week and all the reasons my tribemates could have for wanting me gone.
Mason is near a panic attack when Kyle begins to read the votes.
“Once the votes are read, the decision is final, and the person voted out will be asked to leave the tribal council area immediately. If anybody has a hidden immunity idol and they want to play it, now would be the time to do so,” he says.
I hold my breath, unable to resist turning to look at Kay. Here is the one place our plan could go awry. If Kay plays the idol they’d bragged they could win the clue to, then Mason will be eliminated with only one vote.
Kay does nothing. I let out my breath.
“Okay,” Kyle says. “I’ll read the votes. First vote: Kay. Second vote: Mason.”
I consider asking Mason if he needs a paper bag to breathe into.
“Third vote: Kay. Fourth vote: Kay. Fifth vote, and the second person voted out of “Survivor Kent State” … Kay. That’s four, and that’s enough,” Kyle declares.
I enjoy a guilty surge of relief, now unable to watch as Kay stands up and approaches Kyle. Kyle holds up a dollar store tiki torch and a lighter.
“Kay, the tribe has spoken.” He blows out the lighter. “It’s time for you to go.”
