Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Antimatter Dome Equipment Review By Pat Willis#224534
Shielding for mechas in the 45-65 ton range, that will run you 420 Ferrite, 500 Bioptics, and 30 Niodes to buy. It has some nice abilities and percentages to it, the list is as follows.... Trample Shield 44%, Missile Shield 35%, Laser Vulnerable 11%, Fork Shield 50%, Splash Shield 20%, and Shield (10).
Now if you have enough slots on your mecha the vulnerability is easily taken care of, or if the mecha you install this on has its own shielding for lasers you are set. after all 11% isn't that bad unless you are running your mecha naked without any shielding. Trample, Fork, and Splash are all on here so that takes a lot of the big abilities down a notch for you really. Wide - Fork you'll still have to concern yourself with however. It has a solid rating against missiles, and with the rise of missile boat mechas we are seeing more and more in use on the field. So when you add it all up this is one hell of a shield to protect your light - medium mechas ass, at a very solid price!
Submitted by Pat Willis#224534
Now if you have enough slots on your mecha the vulnerability is easily taken care of, or if the mecha you install this on has its own shielding for lasers you are set. after all 11% isn't that bad unless you are running your mecha naked without any shielding. Trample, Fork, and Splash are all on here so that takes a lot of the big abilities down a notch for you really. Wide - Fork you'll still have to concern yourself with however. It has a solid rating against missiles, and with the rise of missile boat mechas we are seeing more and more in use on the field. So when you add it all up this is one hell of a shield to protect your light - medium mechas ass, at a very solid price!
Submitted by Pat Willis#224534
Tales from the Barracks Part 3, Behind Closed Doors By David McCallum# 701548
Mac relaxed back in the padded chair and hit the recline button, stretching his legs out in front of him. Far more comfortable than a drop ship, although the civilian clothing felt strange after such a prolonged period in combat fatigues or a pilot’s jump suit. Traveling by luxury passenger liner did however have other compensations, and he sipped from the crystal glass of old Terra bourbon and cola before replacing it on the tray in front of him.
True, he was paying for this out of his own pocket, at least until he could con Fuller into putting it on expenses, but even then it was nice to have a little splurge on how the ‘other half’ lived. It was all too easy to get into the endless rounds of combat and drinking, with nothing in between but partying hard in celebration of survival and hours of preparation for the next fight. The money in your personal account racked up because the clan paid for most things but sometimes you just needed to remember to live a little.
Even if it was only a brief interlude between company business.
His eyes strayed from the shapely behind of one of the female cabin attendants who was bending over to serve drinks to another traveler a little further down the aisle. The big screen at the front of the passenger lounge was showing a recap of the Clan War action, and it was always nice to see an article on the lower divisions rather than spending all their time on the big clans. Even better was the fact that it was the first round match up of his old clan Heroes II that had gone into overtime against Illuminati in division ten. The action shots and explosions ended and cut away to some of the participants being interviewed.
There was Pitstop, the new commander after Jay Dubya had been promoted. Word was he had gotten that slot not for his skill in the cockpit since he was reasonably far down the kill ranking, but rather for his cool head. He had shown it during the previous clan war when Jay Dubya’s comms unit had gone down in the final twenty and they were under pressure from a late counter attack. Pitstop had stepped forward and steadied the line, and they had held their nerve and a single victory lead to take the battle. That had probably held him in good stead because having to force a draw and win in overtime on your first battle as C.O. was a hell of a way to prove you had earned your command pips. He still had to learn some of the other intricacies of command however because he certainly didn’t look comfortable in front of the camera.
Not that it really mattered, because the lens seemed to want to spend more time on his team member and new ‘Top Dog’, Spike. Baby faced and with a groupie hanging off either elbow, he was joking with the interviewer. No doubt the girls would go wild over the boyish looks and his haircut which although apparently trendy, Mac reckoned looked more like a hedgehog was attempting to mate with his head. He grinned at the image and picked up his glass to toast the screen.
His mood was interrupted by an unexpected beeping from his wrist communicator. Frowning at the fact the caller I.D. was being blocked, he accepted the call and answered, “Yello?”
“Fuller here, is that you Mac?” came the tinny response.
Macs eyebrows raised before he responded. “I’m just going to pop you on hold while I get somewhere a little more private.”
He didn’t wait for a response before keying the hold facility on the comm unit. He glanced around and decided that the restrooms were about the only place he could talk without being overheard. Swiveling out from his chair, he made his way up the cramped aisle, resisting the temptation to brush a little too closely to the cabin attendant and excused his way past instead.
Only once he was safely inside the cubicle with the door locked and the indicator showing red for occupied did he hit the key again to resume the call. “Are you there General? I’m free to talk now,” then as an afterthought turned the basin tap on so there was just that little more background noise to drown out any possible snooping.
“Where the hell are you Mac? You sound like you’re in the john,” came the voice from the speaker.
Mac raised his eyebrows and smirked as he sat on the closed toilet. “Bearing in mind your first name, answering that question could be taken the wrong way on so many levels. However if my understanding of the intent of your question is correct, yes, I am indeed in the lavatory. It was the closest place I could get some privacy. How can I help you?”
The responding voice was curious. “Where exactly are you pilot?”
Mac considered for a moment before saying, “Bearing in mind that by now Jay Dubya will have informed you that I am currently examining our security protocols, answering that question could prove to be counterproductive, hmm?”
“Hmph… OK, I’m not happy but I’ll let it pass. Anyway, the reason for calling you is that Dave Linton of the Light Brigade has come in out of the cold to help with flushing Drake out of his latest hidey-hole. He’s less than impressed.”
Mac was honestly nonplussed and considered his own frown in the mirror as he spoke. “He’s alive isn’t he? What’s his problem?” he demanded.
“He’s not impressed with the security arrangements you left him with,” Fuller replied.
Mac sucked his teeth and gave a considered answer that he had already prepared for just such an eventuality. “I’m going to point out something here boss,” he stated carefully. “I’ve been over my contract with a very fine tooth comb and at no point did I come across ‘keeping people happy’ as any part of my job description. So bearing that in mind, and the fact that he is alive and well and not in Drake’s hands, what exactly are the issues?”
The voice from the speaker was more than a little testy. “Don’t be smart Mac. What instructions exactly did you give this... Karen? What did you tell her to do?”
Mac shrugged even though Fuller couldn’t see it. “Combat Momma? I told her to keep an eye on him and make sure he was safe... that’s about it. She seems more than clued up, she certainly looked like she understood what I meant so I left all the details to her.”
“Combat Momma? What the hell is all that about Mac?”
“Uh, look, that was probably my fault. She pulled me up on it as well. I used that on the comm channels one time and it sort of stuck,” Mac explained.
“OK, look, that’s not important,” Fuller dismissed. “It’s her conduct that bothers me, and it seems like it’s come from your orders, so I want some answers.”
Mac shrugged again and asked, “OK, what happened?”
Fullers voice became more business-like. “Linton’s made an official report. It started off fine, then he started getting uncomfortable with the way she was just staring at him, so he decided to step out for some fresh air.”
Mac thought about this for a second in light of the potential consequences of a target being seen out in the open. “Seems reasonable if a bit sloppy,” he said finally, “but OK, it’s not like he was under arrest.”
“Yeah, you’d think so, but she said he wasn’t to leave her sight. He tried getting her to stand down and she responded by chaining him to the wall in the basement.”
Mac glanced back up at his reflection and winced at himself. “Ouch. What did she do then?” he queried.
There was a pause from the speaker and Mac wondered if the connection had been dropped, but before he could check, Fuller responded. “She just got a chair and sat there watching him. Didn’t say a word, no matter what Linton said to her. She had an apple and used her combat knife to cut slices off it that she ate. After about an hour, Linton gave up trying to talk to her. Then nature took its course.”
Mac’s eyes when wide. “They didn’t….”
“Hell no!” Fuller blustered, realizing what he had possibly implied. “I mean Linton needed… a comfort break, so asked her… begged her to let him go.” There was another pause. “She made him stand in a bucket.”
If curiosity killed the cat, it was reported that Mac could commit genocide on the feline species. He just couldn’t help himself as he asked, “That sort of begs the question… what about when she needed…” and trailed off awkwardly.
There was a correspondingly awkward pause form the comm unit. “A comfort break? Oh, she left the room and sorted that out. She used her dog to watch him.” There was another minute pause, and Mac imagined Fuller was having to check his notes. “Said it was her familiar, and she could see whatever it saw.”
Mac was justifiably concerned at this news. People could be predicted, but animals always added an element of uncertainty into the mix. “Uh-oh… Look, I’m really sorry, I honestly didn’t know. I never saw her with a dog. What kind was it? Some big thing with fangs and red eyes?”
Again it sounded like Fuller was checking his notes. “It was in her handbag. Maybe fifteen centimeters tall, white and fluffy. She called it Mistress Foofkins.”
Mac looked at himself in the mirror with an extremely neutral face as he repeated, “Mistress… Foofkins.”
Fuller was starting to sound like he was justifying his junior commander’s report. “Linton said it just stared at him like it wanted to swallow his soul.”
“And she keeps it in her handbag…”
“Mac, just shut up… the guys traumatized…”
“By Mistress Foofkins…”
Fuller had raised his voice by now. “I said shut up Mac! Now what do you propose we do about her?” he demanded.
Mac was genuinely surprised and it showed in his voice. “Me?” he said incredulously. “I’m still failing to see where I come into this problem.”
“Yes you,” shot back Fuller. “You were the catalyst, you sent her there.”
Its right what they say about stuff rolling down hills Mac though sourly, but aloud he said, “Alright then boss, I have three options. First, Linton can just grow a pair. At the end of the day there are a certain type of people around who will pay top money to get the kind of treatment he did, so he can consider it an eye opening freebie on the company.”
Fuller’s voice had a deep tone of warning to it. “Don’t go there Mac… just don’t.”
Mac snorted in mild annoyance. “Ok, second suggestion. It’s an internal disciplinary matter between Linton and one of his Light Brigade pilots.”
There was a silence before Fuller responded in a somewhat embarrassed voice, “He doesn’t want to do that…”
“Why not?” demanded Mac hotly.
Fuller’s voice was so quiet that Mac was starting to strain to hear it. “Um… because he says she scares him,” was the eventual explanation.
“Oh for crying out loud,” Mac exclaimed in exasperation. “Fine then, third option. Buy him a pair of white fluffy slippers to help him get over his fear of her dog and then put it down to a case of ‘self-inflicted injury’, because he’s the one that hired the psycho!”
Again there was a pause from the other end of the conversation but when Fuller came back online his voice was remarkably chipper. “Never thought of it like that. Sounds like a very reasonable resolution. Hey, thanks for the help there Mac… Fuller singing off.” And with that, the comm connection closed down.
Mac sat there for a moment longer, staring in bemusement at the wrist unit, before regarding himself in the mirror. “I really need to review the company I keep,” he told himself. His reflection nodded in agreement.
Mac left the cubicle and returned to his seat for the remainder of the flight. Idly he wondered if the flight attendant kept a dog in her handbag…
Submitted by David McCallum # 701548
True, he was paying for this out of his own pocket, at least until he could con Fuller into putting it on expenses, but even then it was nice to have a little splurge on how the ‘other half’ lived. It was all too easy to get into the endless rounds of combat and drinking, with nothing in between but partying hard in celebration of survival and hours of preparation for the next fight. The money in your personal account racked up because the clan paid for most things but sometimes you just needed to remember to live a little.
Even if it was only a brief interlude between company business.
His eyes strayed from the shapely behind of one of the female cabin attendants who was bending over to serve drinks to another traveler a little further down the aisle. The big screen at the front of the passenger lounge was showing a recap of the Clan War action, and it was always nice to see an article on the lower divisions rather than spending all their time on the big clans. Even better was the fact that it was the first round match up of his old clan Heroes II that had gone into overtime against Illuminati in division ten. The action shots and explosions ended and cut away to some of the participants being interviewed.
There was Pitstop, the new commander after Jay Dubya had been promoted. Word was he had gotten that slot not for his skill in the cockpit since he was reasonably far down the kill ranking, but rather for his cool head. He had shown it during the previous clan war when Jay Dubya’s comms unit had gone down in the final twenty and they were under pressure from a late counter attack. Pitstop had stepped forward and steadied the line, and they had held their nerve and a single victory lead to take the battle. That had probably held him in good stead because having to force a draw and win in overtime on your first battle as C.O. was a hell of a way to prove you had earned your command pips. He still had to learn some of the other intricacies of command however because he certainly didn’t look comfortable in front of the camera.
Not that it really mattered, because the lens seemed to want to spend more time on his team member and new ‘Top Dog’, Spike. Baby faced and with a groupie hanging off either elbow, he was joking with the interviewer. No doubt the girls would go wild over the boyish looks and his haircut which although apparently trendy, Mac reckoned looked more like a hedgehog was attempting to mate with his head. He grinned at the image and picked up his glass to toast the screen.
His mood was interrupted by an unexpected beeping from his wrist communicator. Frowning at the fact the caller I.D. was being blocked, he accepted the call and answered, “Yello?”
“Fuller here, is that you Mac?” came the tinny response.
Macs eyebrows raised before he responded. “I’m just going to pop you on hold while I get somewhere a little more private.”
He didn’t wait for a response before keying the hold facility on the comm unit. He glanced around and decided that the restrooms were about the only place he could talk without being overheard. Swiveling out from his chair, he made his way up the cramped aisle, resisting the temptation to brush a little too closely to the cabin attendant and excused his way past instead.
Only once he was safely inside the cubicle with the door locked and the indicator showing red for occupied did he hit the key again to resume the call. “Are you there General? I’m free to talk now,” then as an afterthought turned the basin tap on so there was just that little more background noise to drown out any possible snooping.
“Where the hell are you Mac? You sound like you’re in the john,” came the voice from the speaker.
Mac raised his eyebrows and smirked as he sat on the closed toilet. “Bearing in mind your first name, answering that question could be taken the wrong way on so many levels. However if my understanding of the intent of your question is correct, yes, I am indeed in the lavatory. It was the closest place I could get some privacy. How can I help you?”
The responding voice was curious. “Where exactly are you pilot?”
Mac considered for a moment before saying, “Bearing in mind that by now Jay Dubya will have informed you that I am currently examining our security protocols, answering that question could prove to be counterproductive, hmm?”
“Hmph… OK, I’m not happy but I’ll let it pass. Anyway, the reason for calling you is that Dave Linton of the Light Brigade has come in out of the cold to help with flushing Drake out of his latest hidey-hole. He’s less than impressed.”
Mac was honestly nonplussed and considered his own frown in the mirror as he spoke. “He’s alive isn’t he? What’s his problem?” he demanded.
“He’s not impressed with the security arrangements you left him with,” Fuller replied.
Mac sucked his teeth and gave a considered answer that he had already prepared for just such an eventuality. “I’m going to point out something here boss,” he stated carefully. “I’ve been over my contract with a very fine tooth comb and at no point did I come across ‘keeping people happy’ as any part of my job description. So bearing that in mind, and the fact that he is alive and well and not in Drake’s hands, what exactly are the issues?”
The voice from the speaker was more than a little testy. “Don’t be smart Mac. What instructions exactly did you give this... Karen? What did you tell her to do?”
Mac shrugged even though Fuller couldn’t see it. “Combat Momma? I told her to keep an eye on him and make sure he was safe... that’s about it. She seems more than clued up, she certainly looked like she understood what I meant so I left all the details to her.”
“Combat Momma? What the hell is all that about Mac?”
“Uh, look, that was probably my fault. She pulled me up on it as well. I used that on the comm channels one time and it sort of stuck,” Mac explained.
“OK, look, that’s not important,” Fuller dismissed. “It’s her conduct that bothers me, and it seems like it’s come from your orders, so I want some answers.”
Mac shrugged again and asked, “OK, what happened?”
Fullers voice became more business-like. “Linton’s made an official report. It started off fine, then he started getting uncomfortable with the way she was just staring at him, so he decided to step out for some fresh air.”
Mac thought about this for a second in light of the potential consequences of a target being seen out in the open. “Seems reasonable if a bit sloppy,” he said finally, “but OK, it’s not like he was under arrest.”
“Yeah, you’d think so, but she said he wasn’t to leave her sight. He tried getting her to stand down and she responded by chaining him to the wall in the basement.”
Mac glanced back up at his reflection and winced at himself. “Ouch. What did she do then?” he queried.
There was a pause from the speaker and Mac wondered if the connection had been dropped, but before he could check, Fuller responded. “She just got a chair and sat there watching him. Didn’t say a word, no matter what Linton said to her. She had an apple and used her combat knife to cut slices off it that she ate. After about an hour, Linton gave up trying to talk to her. Then nature took its course.”
Mac’s eyes when wide. “They didn’t….”
“Hell no!” Fuller blustered, realizing what he had possibly implied. “I mean Linton needed… a comfort break, so asked her… begged her to let him go.” There was another pause. “She made him stand in a bucket.”
If curiosity killed the cat, it was reported that Mac could commit genocide on the feline species. He just couldn’t help himself as he asked, “That sort of begs the question… what about when she needed…” and trailed off awkwardly.
There was a correspondingly awkward pause form the comm unit. “A comfort break? Oh, she left the room and sorted that out. She used her dog to watch him.” There was another minute pause, and Mac imagined Fuller was having to check his notes. “Said it was her familiar, and she could see whatever it saw.”
Mac was justifiably concerned at this news. People could be predicted, but animals always added an element of uncertainty into the mix. “Uh-oh… Look, I’m really sorry, I honestly didn’t know. I never saw her with a dog. What kind was it? Some big thing with fangs and red eyes?”
Again it sounded like Fuller was checking his notes. “It was in her handbag. Maybe fifteen centimeters tall, white and fluffy. She called it Mistress Foofkins.”
Mac looked at himself in the mirror with an extremely neutral face as he repeated, “Mistress… Foofkins.”
Fuller was starting to sound like he was justifying his junior commander’s report. “Linton said it just stared at him like it wanted to swallow his soul.”
“And she keeps it in her handbag…”
“Mac, just shut up… the guys traumatized…”
“By Mistress Foofkins…”
Fuller had raised his voice by now. “I said shut up Mac! Now what do you propose we do about her?” he demanded.
Mac was genuinely surprised and it showed in his voice. “Me?” he said incredulously. “I’m still failing to see where I come into this problem.”
“Yes you,” shot back Fuller. “You were the catalyst, you sent her there.”
Its right what they say about stuff rolling down hills Mac though sourly, but aloud he said, “Alright then boss, I have three options. First, Linton can just grow a pair. At the end of the day there are a certain type of people around who will pay top money to get the kind of treatment he did, so he can consider it an eye opening freebie on the company.”
Fuller’s voice had a deep tone of warning to it. “Don’t go there Mac… just don’t.”
Mac snorted in mild annoyance. “Ok, second suggestion. It’s an internal disciplinary matter between Linton and one of his Light Brigade pilots.”
There was a silence before Fuller responded in a somewhat embarrassed voice, “He doesn’t want to do that…”
“Why not?” demanded Mac hotly.
Fuller’s voice was so quiet that Mac was starting to strain to hear it. “Um… because he says she scares him,” was the eventual explanation.
“Oh for crying out loud,” Mac exclaimed in exasperation. “Fine then, third option. Buy him a pair of white fluffy slippers to help him get over his fear of her dog and then put it down to a case of ‘self-inflicted injury’, because he’s the one that hired the psycho!”
Again there was a pause from the other end of the conversation but when Fuller came back online his voice was remarkably chipper. “Never thought of it like that. Sounds like a very reasonable resolution. Hey, thanks for the help there Mac… Fuller singing off.” And with that, the comm connection closed down.
Mac sat there for a moment longer, staring in bemusement at the wrist unit, before regarding himself in the mirror. “I really need to review the company I keep,” he told himself. His reflection nodded in agreement.
Mac left the cubicle and returned to his seat for the remainder of the flight. Idly he wondered if the flight attendant kept a dog in her handbag…
Submitted by David McCallum # 701548
Monday, May 4, 2015
Four, Five, Six, Reload By Kalevi Karvinen#863817
King of the Mountain and Gateway Bottleneck is on, and for some reason I'm still in spot fifteen. Not that I complain about the situation, it just is a little surprising. My obsession of hunting more and more Nephilax ended me yet again in upper division, this is my third penalty event... or maybe fourth, I did not keep track how many there had been, but got my last Nephilax from triple rainbow.
Well actually, I'm right now in a division that is right for my level, even if it is counted as a penalty because it is one division up from my “original” division. But still, there is no chance that I could go higher, I'm still in the low end of this division. But end of event is near and I'm still in top 25, so maybe I'll get a medal (and loot) without fighting this time.
All around me there is fighting going on, but I've stayed at this spot now 20 hours and counting. If my luck holds a little more... Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Aaand End. Yes! Free medal is a good medal. Now waiting for the next to start so I can start to do real life stuff, it is almost time to wake up anyway.
Start! Now! Staarttt!! Argh, alarm... Figures. Start. DARN! START!! Now I'm more than a little disappointed... Can't be helped, need to move on with morning routines, hope that I won't be too late when I get to look at the game next time. Last check, still nothing...
Need to go, quick look in game... yes, it's on!! Enter! Spot seven, joined too early... Back to Sign Up page, what event this was?? 40 ton and below, that's my main formation, need to drop tons if I want out from top ten... I'm in division for levels 10-17... Really? Penalty is over and I'm top of my division. Forget that dropping tons, I will hunt Nephilax. And spot seven is really good place to start. Now I can log out with relief, hunt is on and it's looking good. Just need to put a message to the clan page that I hunt again, so others know that there would be a fight if they try same as me at this event.
First day went by, still I am at the same spot. Downside is that all around me is familiar players. Almost all other Nephi hunters are in this division. Counted 4 hard opponents and 3 or 4 who could try and maybe best me. Not the best possible situation, but I can do this.
Second day, honor guard ended and filled up again. Still in spot seven. Others moved around me, but nobody dropped out deliberately. This going to be expensive fight. End fight start at 3 am, need to put alarm on if I want that Nephilax.
Wake up now and so darn tired. Five minutes to start, there is just time to collect gifts and then I can start my attack run. First hit to spot two. Lost. Again. Lost. Again and here I am. Then first spot. Lost. Again and done, one minute to start. All good now need only wait and refresh page.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Reload. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Reload. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Reload.
Counted seconds and reloaded page. Nothing moved. Those I dropped, I didn't fight, not me or anyone else. Could this actually be this easy? All the strong ones were out from the top ten, don't know if they dropped on purpose or were forced down. I bet on purpose, they are stronger than me, so if someone did drop them, that player would be in top spot already. Four. Five. Six. Reload. I'm top. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack button? What? Someone hits and drops me? So it begins.
Attack. Lost. Attack. Win. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack. Win. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack again. And again. Count the seconds, reload page and repeat. Over and over again. Lucky for me there is only one opponent, too bad it is one of strong ones, so I drop often and collect xp when I take first spot back. Over 100 xp so far, and opponents do not show any sign of slowing down. Below us someone moved, then another, but they stay still down from us. They wanted only spots in top ten... or they couldn't drop anybody else. Fine by me, if this one just could stop already. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack...
Attack me?? What?? My name is in top spot and I can attack it?? What in the...??? That scared me, did my browser brake just now, or even worse, the game itself. And which one of us is in top spot? Panic reload. He is top and I can attack! Done. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Again I continued my mantra and kick him down as soon as I noticed him in _my_ spot.
Xp count 160 now, 5 minutes gone for last attack and I'm not dropping. End fight has been on over 40 minutes now. Now would be a good time to end this event. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Down again? New opponent? Attack. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Who was it? Oh? Same one that I dropped when I started my attack? Gutsy guy, there is less than fifteen minutes left, and he shows up now? Oh well, then I fight with him, I'm so close and this can't continue long anymore. And my mantra continued. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack. Four. Five. Six. Reload.....
After 51 minutes 45 seconds was gone from my first hit in this event, it finally ended. Got that shiny new Nephilax, but at same time got 200 xp for fights only. This sure was expensive hunt, but I did not level up yet, so I can still return in this division when my penalty is over. Then I hunt again.
Submitted by Kalevi Karvinen#863817
All around me there is fighting going on, but I've stayed at this spot now 20 hours and counting. If my luck holds a little more... Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Aaand End. Yes! Free medal is a good medal. Now waiting for the next to start so I can start to do real life stuff, it is almost time to wake up anyway.
Start! Now! Staarttt!! Argh, alarm... Figures. Start. DARN! START!! Now I'm more than a little disappointed... Can't be helped, need to move on with morning routines, hope that I won't be too late when I get to look at the game next time. Last check, still nothing...
Need to go, quick look in game... yes, it's on!! Enter! Spot seven, joined too early... Back to Sign Up page, what event this was?? 40 ton and below, that's my main formation, need to drop tons if I want out from top ten... I'm in division for levels 10-17... Really? Penalty is over and I'm top of my division. Forget that dropping tons, I will hunt Nephilax. And spot seven is really good place to start. Now I can log out with relief, hunt is on and it's looking good. Just need to put a message to the clan page that I hunt again, so others know that there would be a fight if they try same as me at this event.
First day went by, still I am at the same spot. Downside is that all around me is familiar players. Almost all other Nephi hunters are in this division. Counted 4 hard opponents and 3 or 4 who could try and maybe best me. Not the best possible situation, but I can do this.
Second day, honor guard ended and filled up again. Still in spot seven. Others moved around me, but nobody dropped out deliberately. This going to be expensive fight. End fight start at 3 am, need to put alarm on if I want that Nephilax.
Wake up now and so darn tired. Five minutes to start, there is just time to collect gifts and then I can start my attack run. First hit to spot two. Lost. Again. Lost. Again and here I am. Then first spot. Lost. Again and done, one minute to start. All good now need only wait and refresh page.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Reload. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Reload. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Reload.
Counted seconds and reloaded page. Nothing moved. Those I dropped, I didn't fight, not me or anyone else. Could this actually be this easy? All the strong ones were out from the top ten, don't know if they dropped on purpose or were forced down. I bet on purpose, they are stronger than me, so if someone did drop them, that player would be in top spot already. Four. Five. Six. Reload. I'm top. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack button? What? Someone hits and drops me? So it begins.
Attack. Lost. Attack. Win. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack. Win. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack again. And again. Count the seconds, reload page and repeat. Over and over again. Lucky for me there is only one opponent, too bad it is one of strong ones, so I drop often and collect xp when I take first spot back. Over 100 xp so far, and opponents do not show any sign of slowing down. Below us someone moved, then another, but they stay still down from us. They wanted only spots in top ten... or they couldn't drop anybody else. Fine by me, if this one just could stop already. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack...
Attack me?? What?? My name is in top spot and I can attack it?? What in the...??? That scared me, did my browser brake just now, or even worse, the game itself. And which one of us is in top spot? Panic reload. He is top and I can attack! Done. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Again I continued my mantra and kick him down as soon as I noticed him in _my_ spot.
Xp count 160 now, 5 minutes gone for last attack and I'm not dropping. End fight has been on over 40 minutes now. Now would be a good time to end this event. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Down again? New opponent? Attack. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Who was it? Oh? Same one that I dropped when I started my attack? Gutsy guy, there is less than fifteen minutes left, and he shows up now? Oh well, then I fight with him, I'm so close and this can't continue long anymore. And my mantra continued. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Four. Five. Six. Reload. Attack. Four. Five. Six. Reload.....
After 51 minutes 45 seconds was gone from my first hit in this event, it finally ended. Got that shiny new Nephilax, but at same time got 200 xp for fights only. This sure was expensive hunt, but I did not level up yet, so I can still return in this division when my penalty is over. Then I hunt again.
Submitted by Kalevi Karvinen#863817
Grease Monkey "Monk" Malone's Shop Talk Letters From Pilots About Pilots And For Pilots By Ron Frye#879655
Dear Monk,
My name is Joel Parras and I lead a sub clan of the Brotherhood, one the top ranking clans in the circuits. We run a clean operation with little to nill drama, as we like it that way. However, recently, we have been recruiting younger and younger members to augment our war ravaged ranks. It is a give and take situation I must admit. The newbs are eager but they are teenagers with the retention capacity of goose squirt. I think I have written similar letters to you in the past about this dilemma, but this incident deserved another letter all its own.
One of the young lads in our junior squad gold, had developed feelings for a young lass in junior squad blue. The lad was smitten for the said lass, however the lassy in question was under the misunderstanding that the lad mentioned previously, did not exist.
The young pilot, in an attempt to impress his lady fair, decided to quote, "Pimp his ride.", end quote. Unfortunately he chose to use the parts from the R&D section of the mecha bay, rather than the normal parts bins. As a consequence of this action, instead of simply "pimping" his Krampus Mecha, he instead, "cranked that bad boy up like a classic tank on steroidal LSD.
When he entered the sparring grounds, he took two steps, every single weapon on his mecha fired at once (21 projectile rotary cannons) and his thrust jets ignited into overdrive. The last we saw of him was a radar bleep somewhere between one and one half planetary orbits distance from the sun on a non stop trip to its molten surface.
Any advice?
Signed,
Col "Lost for words" Smythyrs III
Dear Lost for Words,
Col. let me be the first to wish you my condolences on you loss and to thank you for your service to our nations. Secondly, I really have no more advice for you. However, I do have some words of wisdom for your students. If the toys are not yours to play with, DO NOT TOUCH THEM!!!!!
Signed,
Monk "Why couldn't it be a question about actuators or niode bundle technology" Malone.
Submitted by Sgt Ron Frye#879655
My name is Joel Parras and I lead a sub clan of the Brotherhood, one the top ranking clans in the circuits. We run a clean operation with little to nill drama, as we like it that way. However, recently, we have been recruiting younger and younger members to augment our war ravaged ranks. It is a give and take situation I must admit. The newbs are eager but they are teenagers with the retention capacity of goose squirt. I think I have written similar letters to you in the past about this dilemma, but this incident deserved another letter all its own.
One of the young lads in our junior squad gold, had developed feelings for a young lass in junior squad blue. The lad was smitten for the said lass, however the lassy in question was under the misunderstanding that the lad mentioned previously, did not exist.
The young pilot, in an attempt to impress his lady fair, decided to quote, "Pimp his ride.", end quote. Unfortunately he chose to use the parts from the R&D section of the mecha bay, rather than the normal parts bins. As a consequence of this action, instead of simply "pimping" his Krampus Mecha, he instead, "cranked that bad boy up like a classic tank on steroidal LSD.
When he entered the sparring grounds, he took two steps, every single weapon on his mecha fired at once (21 projectile rotary cannons) and his thrust jets ignited into overdrive. The last we saw of him was a radar bleep somewhere between one and one half planetary orbits distance from the sun on a non stop trip to its molten surface.
Any advice?
Signed,
Col "Lost for words" Smythyrs III
Dear Lost for Words,
Col. let me be the first to wish you my condolences on you loss and to thank you for your service to our nations. Secondly, I really have no more advice for you. However, I do have some words of wisdom for your students. If the toys are not yours to play with, DO NOT TOUCH THEM!!!!!
Signed,
Monk "Why couldn't it be a question about actuators or niode bundle technology" Malone.
Submitted by Sgt Ron Frye#879655
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Grease Monkey "Monk" Malone's Shop Talk Letters to Monk "Love Lost Is better Than Never To Have Loved At All?" By Ron Frye#879655
Dear Monk,
I was recently at a bar near our clan's headquarters, when I ran into my own clone. I am a very handsome young devil I must say. We had a few drinks and met a pair of female mecha pilot clones. One thing led to another and now I am in a dilemma. My new bride is pregnant with my clone's baby and I do not know what to do. Your advice?
Signed,
Cloned and Confused
Dear Cloned and Confused,
You sir, are one twisted puppy. My advice to you is that you should immediately jump into the nearest auto canon and fire yourself at a passing Anubis. Failing that, the only other advice I can give you is to go home, pretend this never happened, and tell no one. You, your clone, your wife and her clone all need some very serious therapy and possibly a round of frontal lobe removal. Do us all a favor and remove yourself from our gene pool. You are wrecking the water.
Signed,
Monk "What the Frack are you people writing me this stuff for" Malone
Dear Monk,
Is it immoral to marry my own clone? And, if I somehow became pregnant in such a union, would that be considered wrong, in your opinion?
Signed,
Curious and Confused
Dear Curious and Confused,
What is wrong with you people? Do you have any idea the amount of credits I spend on therapy due to simply READING your letters? Do not under any circumstances, place yourself in a situation that involves any form of intimacy with your own clone! If you are attracted to your own sex, go out and find a consenting NON-genetically related partner. And, how on earth could you become pregnant from your own clone? Unless you visit Dr. Drake on a very regular basis, the science behind such a thing boggles the mind. Stop the madness, and under no circumstances must you ever say such a thing again! Bad Pilot! Bad!
Signed,
Monk "My hormones are now permanently damaged" Malone
To my readers,
Several of you sent similar letters on the same topic. I answered two. That was two more than I ever wish to answer again. Shame on you! I spent an hour convincing my editor to come out from under his desk and that the bad people were gone now. You made a grown man cry, you know. He still mutters to himself about finding a happy place and something about a bad touch. Shame on you! Shame on you all!
Signed,
Monk "Think of the children" Malone
Submitted by Sgt Ron Frye#879655
I was recently at a bar near our clan's headquarters, when I ran into my own clone. I am a very handsome young devil I must say. We had a few drinks and met a pair of female mecha pilot clones. One thing led to another and now I am in a dilemma. My new bride is pregnant with my clone's baby and I do not know what to do. Your advice?
Signed,
Cloned and Confused
Dear Cloned and Confused,
You sir, are one twisted puppy. My advice to you is that you should immediately jump into the nearest auto canon and fire yourself at a passing Anubis. Failing that, the only other advice I can give you is to go home, pretend this never happened, and tell no one. You, your clone, your wife and her clone all need some very serious therapy and possibly a round of frontal lobe removal. Do us all a favor and remove yourself from our gene pool. You are wrecking the water.
Signed,
Monk "What the Frack are you people writing me this stuff for" Malone
Dear Monk,
Is it immoral to marry my own clone? And, if I somehow became pregnant in such a union, would that be considered wrong, in your opinion?
Signed,
Curious and Confused
Dear Curious and Confused,
What is wrong with you people? Do you have any idea the amount of credits I spend on therapy due to simply READING your letters? Do not under any circumstances, place yourself in a situation that involves any form of intimacy with your own clone! If you are attracted to your own sex, go out and find a consenting NON-genetically related partner. And, how on earth could you become pregnant from your own clone? Unless you visit Dr. Drake on a very regular basis, the science behind such a thing boggles the mind. Stop the madness, and under no circumstances must you ever say such a thing again! Bad Pilot! Bad!
Signed,
Monk "My hormones are now permanently damaged" Malone
To my readers,
Several of you sent similar letters on the same topic. I answered two. That was two more than I ever wish to answer again. Shame on you! I spent an hour convincing my editor to come out from under his desk and that the bad people were gone now. You made a grown man cry, you know. He still mutters to himself about finding a happy place and something about a bad touch. Shame on you! Shame on you all!
Signed,
Monk "Think of the children" Malone
Submitted by Sgt Ron Frye#879655
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Grease Monkey "Monk" Malone's Shop Talk Letters To Monk Article Seven: Jeepers Peepers By Ron Frye#879655
Dear Monk,
Strangest thing happened the other day. As we were doing a routine sweep of our perimeter I encountered an enemy Og' mecha in one of our local port towns. The mecha was in a side alley and appeared to be looking in the window of an apartment building. The pilot appeared to be completely oblivious to my presence and was engaged in performing a pantomime of a sexual explicit personal act upon itself. As I drew closer I could see that the occupant of the apartment in question was a partially dressed female. Realizing what was occurring, I shot the Og' in the cockpit and walked away. My question is this. How the hell do I ever get that image out of my head?
Signed,
Traumatized
Dear Traumatized,
I could recommend several therapists who specialize in this form of trauma. As difficult as it may seem, this happens far more frequently than we would like to admit. I will private message you the contact information on the therapists in question. As a side note, I would like to inform our other readers that masturbating while engaged in your mechas neural helmet is hazardous in far more ways than one. Not only do you run the risk of being shot in the back of the head by a passing patrol, you could also damage your mechas crotch actuators, seriously damage your own private areas due to a massive hydrolic backlash, and best case scenario, you survive, your tech team reviews your video and footage and calls you a bloody wanker for the rest of your life.
Signed,
Monk "Do not be a dead wanker" Malone
PS
Thank you for the anonymous emails from my avid readers. You people are better than fiction.
Submitted by Sgt Ron Frye#879655
Strangest thing happened the other day. As we were doing a routine sweep of our perimeter I encountered an enemy Og' mecha in one of our local port towns. The mecha was in a side alley and appeared to be looking in the window of an apartment building. The pilot appeared to be completely oblivious to my presence and was engaged in performing a pantomime of a sexual explicit personal act upon itself. As I drew closer I could see that the occupant of the apartment in question was a partially dressed female. Realizing what was occurring, I shot the Og' in the cockpit and walked away. My question is this. How the hell do I ever get that image out of my head?
Signed,
Traumatized
Dear Traumatized,
I could recommend several therapists who specialize in this form of trauma. As difficult as it may seem, this happens far more frequently than we would like to admit. I will private message you the contact information on the therapists in question. As a side note, I would like to inform our other readers that masturbating while engaged in your mechas neural helmet is hazardous in far more ways than one. Not only do you run the risk of being shot in the back of the head by a passing patrol, you could also damage your mechas crotch actuators, seriously damage your own private areas due to a massive hydrolic backlash, and best case scenario, you survive, your tech team reviews your video and footage and calls you a bloody wanker for the rest of your life.
Signed,
Monk "Do not be a dead wanker" Malone
PS
Thank you for the anonymous emails from my avid readers. You people are better than fiction.
Submitted by Sgt Ron Frye#879655
Friday, May 1, 2015
The Makings Of A Hero Part Two By Joshua Bourne #702128
The Nifthel burst through the outer wall and is immediately assailed by guarding Red Ants in the area. Swift actions from the heroic Pilot allowed him to fire his freezing Sleet Storm at the nearby Ants, causing their servos to lock up and become unresponsive, the small arms fire being prevented from coming out of the small barrels. Laser bolts smashing helplessly into the ice on their mechs. Another burst of Sleet covers their mechs, immobilizing them completely. One blast from the Cannon bursts them into little pieces of mech all over the Courtyard. Weapons and armor plating scattering all over the place. Slowly, our mecha Pilot walked towards the looming building in front of him.
Another blast is fired. At the Facility walls this time, blowing a large hole in the wall for the mech to slip through. Debris and dust fills the room. Piles of rubble litter the floor from bombardments and Missiles hitting the building, making it hard to move in the structure. The structural integrity of the building has been severely weakened by the constant attacks, however our Hero ventures forth.
After a small amount of time and fighting, he was able to make his way to the Cloning Facilities. The reason why we were all here. Though it is our hero that pays the highest cost. Before he besieged the Facility, he attached a Handheld Nuke to his engine. Designed to detonate after a period of time, in case he was to fall. He needed to get as deep in as he could for maximum damage and minimum place for errors. He surged forward, looking as he went, the process of how a Clone is "Born". They all come out of, what seems to be a birthing chamber fully matured, with Chips in the back of their head. The further in he went, the more he saw this. there was even a point where he saw children coming out of the machines. But there was one thing that caught his eye.
Amongst all this horror. All this action. All this carnage. Was Drake. He stood there, mocking him. His arms out wide, ready for a blast from the weapons of the Nifthel. So he obliged. He fired one salvo of his cannon and there was a loud detonation, cracking all the glass and Cloning bays in the vicinity. The explosions smoke and fire cleared, only to see a Black Fist where Drake was standing. Looking up, he sees the looming sight of the most brutal mech in this sub-sector. The Antithesis. The Faceless mech of death. This is what all Pilots feared fighting. No matter their numbers or advantage. But he would be forced to deal with it nonetheless. The detonation of his mech wasn't for another two minutes. He would have to wait it out until he could defeat his adversary. But how could he fight such a behemoth?
Then, it hit him. It might be strong, it doesn't mean its fast. He puts his mech straight behind cloning machines as he rushes across the area. The Anti firing, giving no heed to the cloning bays that are currently active. Screams of rage can be heard over the Vox-Net as Drake hears that his Clone has been defeated and his final defense has been breached. One desperate shot of the Vadhar cleaves straight through one of the legs of the Nifthel, causing it to buckle and collapse under its own weight. drake moves closer, savoring every last bit of the kill, laughing behind the faceless demon he created. Inside the Nifthel, all he can see are warning lights, malfunctions and, in big numbers, the countdown till the bomb goes off.....
"10 Seconds". The bomb starts to beep throughout the room as Drake approaches. "9 Seconds". He is standing over his ruined mech. "8 seconds". The Anti opens up to allow Drake to jump out, gun in hand. "7 seconds". He is standing on the Nifthel, gun aimed at the hinges. "6 seconds". The first hinge blows off in a flurry of pieces. "5 seconds". The second hinge breaks apart from the round. "4 seconds". The third and final hatch crumbles under the bullet. "3 seconds". He opens the hatch. "2 seconds". As the hatch opens, you see his maniacal grin with your own eyes. Him, staring down and raising a gun at him. "1 second". There is a loud clap of a round before the beeps end, consuming the whole area in a blaze of fire and radiation. The force collapsing all ways too far deep into the Facility. The Antithesis Facilities destroyed. The Cloning Facilities destroyed. The hero's sacrifice worth while.
Submitted by Joshua Bourne #702128
Another blast is fired. At the Facility walls this time, blowing a large hole in the wall for the mech to slip through. Debris and dust fills the room. Piles of rubble litter the floor from bombardments and Missiles hitting the building, making it hard to move in the structure. The structural integrity of the building has been severely weakened by the constant attacks, however our Hero ventures forth.
After a small amount of time and fighting, he was able to make his way to the Cloning Facilities. The reason why we were all here. Though it is our hero that pays the highest cost. Before he besieged the Facility, he attached a Handheld Nuke to his engine. Designed to detonate after a period of time, in case he was to fall. He needed to get as deep in as he could for maximum damage and minimum place for errors. He surged forward, looking as he went, the process of how a Clone is "Born". They all come out of, what seems to be a birthing chamber fully matured, with Chips in the back of their head. The further in he went, the more he saw this. there was even a point where he saw children coming out of the machines. But there was one thing that caught his eye.
Amongst all this horror. All this action. All this carnage. Was Drake. He stood there, mocking him. His arms out wide, ready for a blast from the weapons of the Nifthel. So he obliged. He fired one salvo of his cannon and there was a loud detonation, cracking all the glass and Cloning bays in the vicinity. The explosions smoke and fire cleared, only to see a Black Fist where Drake was standing. Looking up, he sees the looming sight of the most brutal mech in this sub-sector. The Antithesis. The Faceless mech of death. This is what all Pilots feared fighting. No matter their numbers or advantage. But he would be forced to deal with it nonetheless. The detonation of his mech wasn't for another two minutes. He would have to wait it out until he could defeat his adversary. But how could he fight such a behemoth?
Then, it hit him. It might be strong, it doesn't mean its fast. He puts his mech straight behind cloning machines as he rushes across the area. The Anti firing, giving no heed to the cloning bays that are currently active. Screams of rage can be heard over the Vox-Net as Drake hears that his Clone has been defeated and his final defense has been breached. One desperate shot of the Vadhar cleaves straight through one of the legs of the Nifthel, causing it to buckle and collapse under its own weight. drake moves closer, savoring every last bit of the kill, laughing behind the faceless demon he created. Inside the Nifthel, all he can see are warning lights, malfunctions and, in big numbers, the countdown till the bomb goes off.....
"10 Seconds". The bomb starts to beep throughout the room as Drake approaches. "9 Seconds". He is standing over his ruined mech. "8 seconds". The Anti opens up to allow Drake to jump out, gun in hand. "7 seconds". He is standing on the Nifthel, gun aimed at the hinges. "6 seconds". The first hinge blows off in a flurry of pieces. "5 seconds". The second hinge breaks apart from the round. "4 seconds". The third and final hatch crumbles under the bullet. "3 seconds". He opens the hatch. "2 seconds". As the hatch opens, you see his maniacal grin with your own eyes. Him, staring down and raising a gun at him. "1 second". There is a loud clap of a round before the beeps end, consuming the whole area in a blaze of fire and radiation. The force collapsing all ways too far deep into the Facility. The Antithesis Facilities destroyed. The Cloning Facilities destroyed. The hero's sacrifice worth while.
Submitted by Joshua Bourne #702128
The Makings Of A Hero Part 1 By Joshua Bourne #702128
In the wake of the defeat of Doctor Drake Novum, many Pilots looted the Vaults, Armories and Hangers still yet to be claimed by The Authorities. One pilot in particular didn't go for the Vaults. He didn't go for the advanced Armories and filled Hangers. He went straight for the heart of Novum's complex. The source of the problem. The Cloning Facilities that had caused all these problems before.
This Pilot, little did he know, was about to change the whole Galaxy. He was a lone Pilot, unable to find a band of people he could call brethren. Comrades. Family. While the War between Novum and the Clans waged around him, he saw an opportunity to cut off the reinforcements of Clones. but not without a cost. A terrible, terrible cost.
He understood that their was Cloning Facilities within the final Bastion of Drake and they had to be destroyed if Drake was to be defeated as well. As the final siege was in progress, he saw an opportunity to slip inside the facility in his little Nifthel. This, he knew, was a one way trip. He needed to do this in order to stop anything like this happening again. The threat of another war of clones was too high. This had to be stopped now. He ran to the walls of the Facility and blasted his way in, debris, dust and smoke hiding him from view.......
Submitted by Joshua Bourne #702128
This Pilot, little did he know, was about to change the whole Galaxy. He was a lone Pilot, unable to find a band of people he could call brethren. Comrades. Family. While the War between Novum and the Clans waged around him, he saw an opportunity to cut off the reinforcements of Clones. but not without a cost. A terrible, terrible cost.
He understood that their was Cloning Facilities within the final Bastion of Drake and they had to be destroyed if Drake was to be defeated as well. As the final siege was in progress, he saw an opportunity to slip inside the facility in his little Nifthel. This, he knew, was a one way trip. He needed to do this in order to stop anything like this happening again. The threat of another war of clones was too high. This had to be stopped now. He ran to the walls of the Facility and blasted his way in, debris, dust and smoke hiding him from view.......
Submitted by Joshua Bourne #702128
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)