Poll: The Great Escapist Civil War
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I am proud to present my expertise in service of PlayStation Tribe. And my expertise is great as I am not average in anyway.
I too am from the xbox clan yet possess no high pitched voice, or thick headedness. I have an abundance of determination and skill though. Perhaps we are mutants, or perhaps something far greater?Blatherscythe said:I'm part of the Xbox Clan. Although I lack the high-pitched voice, limited mental capacity and thick headedness of my fellow clansman. So does that make me some sort of mutant?
Oh and here's my weapon of choice.
Still working on the armor though.
In any case, whilst you chainsaw our foes i'll keep you covered
The Walls were failing, imps and fanboys running without order into the melee outside, in the knowledge that these moment would be their last. The casuals applied themselves with such fury that many feared that Castle Duncussin, the last line of defence in Lord Crowshaw's arsenal, would soon fall. The King himself was growing increasingly and visibly agitated, chosing to argue with individual dissenters in the Casual ranks rather than smiting them outright.
Many feared that he had lost his mind. Why was he speaking to them as if they were worth his time? Why did he just not swing his axe and be done with the horror of the Casual army. Soon enough, Lord Crowshaw fell from his steed of fire and tits, and into the maelstrom of bodies below.
"The day is lost!" Cried is subjects, as they beat a hasty retreat into the remanants of Duncussin. There would be no safety there, however, and very few of the remaining Zero Army forces would survive the ensuing slaughter. Some chose to take their own lives, other choosing a life of cowardice as subserviants to the Casuals.
Lord Crowshaw himself was overlooked in the rush to take the keep, and choosing cowardice himself, fled into the woods to find the rebels and tribes that he once shared such an animosity with. No longer a King, nor a lord, Crowshaw assumed a name that would reflect his cowardly and lowly status: "Yahtzee", meaning 'Small, weak child', in the all-but-forgotten ancient language of the Crowshaw clan. It was approriate name in the mind of the once-mighty King that now fled, without knowledge of direction, into the heavy woods that surrounded what was once his kingdom.
Someday, there would retribution, he would once again proudly stand on the walls of Duncussin and live up to his family name. But for now, he had to find friends in the tribes he once looked so low upon...
Many feared that he had lost his mind. Why was he speaking to them as if they were worth his time? Why did he just not swing his axe and be done with the horror of the Casual army. Soon enough, Lord Crowshaw fell from his steed of fire and tits, and into the maelstrom of bodies below.
"The day is lost!" Cried is subjects, as they beat a hasty retreat into the remanants of Duncussin. There would be no safety there, however, and very few of the remaining Zero Army forces would survive the ensuing slaughter. Some chose to take their own lives, other choosing a life of cowardice as subserviants to the Casuals.
Lord Crowshaw himself was overlooked in the rush to take the keep, and choosing cowardice himself, fled into the woods to find the rebels and tribes that he once shared such an animosity with. No longer a King, nor a lord, Crowshaw assumed a name that would reflect his cowardly and lowly status: "Yahtzee", meaning 'Small, weak child', in the all-but-forgotten ancient language of the Crowshaw clan. It was approriate name in the mind of the once-mighty King that now fled, without knowledge of direction, into the heavy woods that surrounded what was once his kingdom.
Someday, there would retribution, he would once again proudly stand on the walls of Duncussin and live up to his family name. But for now, he had to find friends in the tribes he once looked so low upon...
The Mod Squad
Baby Tea crested the hill over looking the carnage LaCoil wrought in her unholy fury. The trolls were still scattering as her wrath was sedated...for now. Seeing the inevitable victory, Tea raised his Ban-Hammer in a mighty cheer!
"There can only be one victor!" He cried.
"And that's me, right?" Victor said, coming out from behind a rock.
Tea dropped his hand, and his shoulders...this was his curse. Long ago, Tea stumbled upon a magical artifact that gave him a nice, slim figure (Hey, it's important). But with it, came a powerful curse. Nearly everything he said, and did, was considered a joke. And it's magic was powerful.
"Dang it, Victor! Get out of here! I'm trying to act triumphant! I was striking a mighty pose over here, and then what? You show up. You aren't mighty, Victor. Go away."
Tea would have felt guilty, but Victor wasn't real. He was just a manifestation of the tragic curse. Looking back over the battlefield, Tea could see LaCoil resting easy, the trolls dispersed. She works fast. Sighing with the resignation of both his missing out on the battle, and his lost, epic entrance, Tea trotted down toward her, ready to throw his hat into this war.
A white blur flew past him, landing gently just ahead. A hat.
Looks like the curse would follow him anywhere.
Dang it.
Baby Tea crested the hill over looking the carnage LaCoil wrought in her unholy fury. The trolls were still scattering as her wrath was sedated...for now. Seeing the inevitable victory, Tea raised his Ban-Hammer in a mighty cheer!
"There can only be one victor!" He cried.
"And that's me, right?" Victor said, coming out from behind a rock.
Tea dropped his hand, and his shoulders...this was his curse. Long ago, Tea stumbled upon a magical artifact that gave him a nice, slim figure (Hey, it's important). But with it, came a powerful curse. Nearly everything he said, and did, was considered a joke. And it's magic was powerful.
"Dang it, Victor! Get out of here! I'm trying to act triumphant! I was striking a mighty pose over here, and then what? You show up. You aren't mighty, Victor. Go away."
Tea would have felt guilty, but Victor wasn't real. He was just a manifestation of the tragic curse. Looking back over the battlefield, Tea could see LaCoil resting easy, the trolls dispersed. She works fast. Sighing with the resignation of both his missing out on the battle, and his lost, epic entrance, Tea trotted down toward her, ready to throw his hat into this war.
A white blur flew past him, landing gently just ahead. A hat.
Looks like the curse would follow him anywhere.
Dang it.
The Logician shook his head. "No, I told you, I don't freelance; Logician's aren't fit for a position of leadership."Khedive Rex said:
"Then who are you working for?" Rex asked, downing three asprin.
"Dunno, why?"
"Ah." Rex leaned back, putting his feet on the table. "What do you think of the monarch?"
The Logician sat down. "Who?"
"Yahtzee. No neck, no arms, fancy hat?" The Logician shook his head. "Evil? All powerful? You're in his kingdom?"
"Nah, I'm here for the free drinks." Loggy said. "Although there was this shy aussie in a bathrobe when I got here..."
Rex stuttered for a moment before letting his head fall on the table. "Is that a thro-y'know what, nevermind."
Loggy shrugged. "My intelegence guy should be here soon. I told him to-"
There was a mechanical grunt in the back of the bar; Loggy and Rex turned around to see a silvery...skeleton...thingy.
"The fuck!" Loggy yelled. "It's like I'm not the one making time, space, and reality itself my *****! The hell do people get in here?"
The figure in the back replied, in a deep monotone, "I busted a hole in the wall. You didn't notice that?"
"IT'S MADE OUT OF SPACE DIAMONDS, FREAK!"
"Loggy, that's-"
Loggy cut red off. "No, that's his name. Wanderfreak. He's intelegence. Don't ask."
"So why did you make this place?" Rex asked.
"Two reasons;" Loggy replied. "One; I wanted to sit down until the actual fighting began. Two; I wanted a place for the Yahtzee group to...well, group."
"That explains the giant florecent arrow on the top." I thought'YAHTZEE GROUP, GATHER HERE' might be a little subtle, myself$. Not to mention distasteful."
"There's not-"
The Logician cut Rex off again. "Yes there is. I just put it there."
"Y'know, Loggy, I'm sick and tired of you cutting me-"
"Barkeep! More cigars!"
"Goddamn it!" Rex growled, punching the table.
Loggy leaned back, saying. "Plus I get free drinks here. Everyone wins."
The Mod SquadBaby Tea said:
[sup][small]What, you don't know what IRC [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/chat/] is?[/small][/sup]
There are a couple of different ways to ruin a good moment. Some of them involve elaborate planning, and unraveling the unilaterally changes the tide of the atmosphere with pinpoint precision and detail. There's the simple disruption, which tugs a single thread, and the entire piece falls apart. The last is the most absurd of all of the options, chaos. Living up to its name, chaos is the most inconsistent, because it is the most chaotic. While not very effective, it was certainly NewCursic's favorite.
"B-Tea!" Yelled the child, barreling into a lope and pouncing on BTea's back, slinging his legs over the man's shoulders. He smiled triumphantly, feeling safer on the man's shoulders than anywhere else. "Hey beautiful.~ Name's NewCursic, and I'm the curse that never goes away.~"
BTea immediately yelped, jumping into the air slightly. Which wasn't hard, the child wasn't terribly heavy. "God, I'm not sure which is worse. The pun in your name, or the fact that you're climbing all over me..."
NewCursic tugged hard to the right, stumbling Tea over. His impish smile came with a familiar, affected accent. "Both. There ya go, piece a cake!" NewCursic jumped, tucking into a cute flip and landing on all fours. BTea, being the springboard, landed on his ass. Waving, NewCursic grinned. "See you later Wonderdog."
BTea scowled, "Go away NewCursic, you aren't wanted here."
"Oh, unlike the other bits of the curse," NewC sang, "I never go away." He sauntered forward out of BTea's line of sight.
"Thank God," Tea said aloud.
"Thank legs, actually," NewC said, suddenly behind him, and again pouncing on his shoulders. "But I suppose God made legs, if you believe that kinda thing."
BTea's face dropped, but said nothing. He continued walking, trying to ignore the child on his shoulders.
"Aww... Don't be Mr. Pouty Face. C'mon, say something!"
BTea's glare may as well have set fire to its target, for as unrestrained the contempt was. "I hate you."
NewC, suddenly lighting up like a candle, "Aww! I love you too! This adventure will be fun!~"
Yahtzee had been walking for the better part of a day. He was hungry, thirsty, tired. His hat was all but in tatters, and even his booming voice now a pathetic wheeze. Soon, however the heavy woods had given way to lighter pine forests, and eventually to the rocky plains of a Troll infested forum. Trolls, that meant hunters. Or certain death. Either one sounded good to Yahtzee at this point. He walked over a rocky outcrop, only to see a scene of unimaginable carnage below him. There must have been thirty- no, fifty dead Trolls, although the sheer radius of spread body parts meant that it would require a team of surgical mathematitions to accurately ring up a death toll for the day. Standing in the middle of this carnage, leaning on a sword in what could only be described as a nonchalant way, was a Moderator, resplendent in the armour of Her kind. The red paint splashed across her breastplate indicated that she was of the Red guard. One of the good Mods. Yahtzee felt his heart rise, only to rise further when he spotter another Red Guard, in pursuit of some kind of bonnet, trip over a hidden drumlin and slide to a stop at the feet of the first Mod, having picked up some extra limbs on his journey.Baby Tea said:
"This is what I need, Moderators" Yahtzee thought, making himself known by wheezing and running towards the guards.
Xbox Clanswoman
The glow from Radelaide's red controller highlighted her features softly. Behind her, the cries from the Xbox Live cavemen made her cringe. If the Xbox Clan was going to win the war, their warriors would need to be quick-thinking, cunning soldiers not grunting, cussing morons.
Walking towards HQ, Radelaide flashed her gamercard, and headed towards a strategy meeting. A few quick nods in her direction and the group leader continued to outline his battle plan, "We outflank the PC dynasty here, with Operation Ubisoft. We will deal with each faction as they come, but our primary objective is the dynasty until further notice. Radelaide left the meeting with her men and headed towards battle.
The glow from Radelaide's red controller highlighted her features softly. Behind her, the cries from the Xbox Live cavemen made her cringe. If the Xbox Clan was going to win the war, their warriors would need to be quick-thinking, cunning soldiers not grunting, cussing morons.
Walking towards HQ, Radelaide flashed her gamercard, and headed towards a strategy meeting. A few quick nods in her direction and the group leader continued to outline his battle plan, "We outflank the PC dynasty here, with Operation Ubisoft. We will deal with each faction as they come, but our primary objective is the dynasty until further notice. Radelaide left the meeting with her men and headed towards battle.
The sound of cloth brushing against flesh contrasted with the cold and metallic hum of the drop ship, creating an illusion of isolation and despair that would have been quite poetic had a poet been in the vicinity, but there were no poets as the two figures were isolated and filled with despair, alone, in the hangar of the drop ship.
Fire Daemon finished filling his pockets, a great deal more than the outfit would suggest and turned to his cherub quickly, taking the shotgun held before him without so much as the recognition of the creatures existence before quickly turning away. He hefted the shotgun and felt it's weight, putting his hands on the usual spots and looking down the sights. It felt like a long lost memory, like returning home after a journey. It had been too long but this home, this was a home of death and destruction. Of lost friends and funerals; of remorse and regret, a home that he hated and when this had finished he would never return to, one way or the other.
'Thank you' he said to break the silence more than anything. The cherub floated there looking at him its big round eyes, Fire could feel them piercing his back. 'Thank you for always being with me', he turned around to face his friend, 'for always getting me out of these fights alive, your the greatest familiar a man could ask for, but not this time. This time I drop alone'. The anguish was evident on the little creatures face, it pained him to know his master was going to war alone and that he believed this conflict would be the death of him. Heroically he put on a brave face and flew to his level but Fire already had his back to the creature, any protest now would be futile, the decision was made.
'We will be nearing the ground soon, disengage the auto pilot and set up a secure landing for me at the headquarters for the Kingdom of Croshaw, I believe it is a bar, seems fitting. I want you to then fly to the mountains of Mobius and seek shelter on one of the peaks. You will be safe'.
The cherub wished to reply but all hope of discourse was lost when the holding bay door opened releasing a flurry of noise, wind and light onto the two figures. With a begrudging sigh the cherub left and tended to the controls, lowering the ship just above the ground safely away from the bar. Silently Fire Daemon slipped out of the ship, shotgun in hand and clothes blowing in the wind. He started moving towards the bar with haste as the ship closed its doors and left, not wanting to look back. He would miss the little guy but things had to be done this way, it was a sign of mercy. The cherub was steadfast and focused entirely on getting the ship to the Mobius Mountains. He would complete his final order, a loyal servant to the end.
Fire Daemon moved into the building and saw familiar faces. 'Gentlemen' he proclaimed, 'what's on tap?'
Fire Daemon finished filling his pockets, a great deal more than the outfit would suggest and turned to his cherub quickly, taking the shotgun held before him without so much as the recognition of the creatures existence before quickly turning away. He hefted the shotgun and felt it's weight, putting his hands on the usual spots and looking down the sights. It felt like a long lost memory, like returning home after a journey. It had been too long but this home, this was a home of death and destruction. Of lost friends and funerals; of remorse and regret, a home that he hated and when this had finished he would never return to, one way or the other.
'Thank you' he said to break the silence more than anything. The cherub floated there looking at him its big round eyes, Fire could feel them piercing his back. 'Thank you for always being with me', he turned around to face his friend, 'for always getting me out of these fights alive, your the greatest familiar a man could ask for, but not this time. This time I drop alone'. The anguish was evident on the little creatures face, it pained him to know his master was going to war alone and that he believed this conflict would be the death of him. Heroically he put on a brave face and flew to his level but Fire already had his back to the creature, any protest now would be futile, the decision was made.
'We will be nearing the ground soon, disengage the auto pilot and set up a secure landing for me at the headquarters for the Kingdom of Croshaw, I believe it is a bar, seems fitting. I want you to then fly to the mountains of Mobius and seek shelter on one of the peaks. You will be safe'.
The cherub wished to reply but all hope of discourse was lost when the holding bay door opened releasing a flurry of noise, wind and light onto the two figures. With a begrudging sigh the cherub left and tended to the controls, lowering the ship just above the ground safely away from the bar. Silently Fire Daemon slipped out of the ship, shotgun in hand and clothes blowing in the wind. He started moving towards the bar with haste as the ship closed its doors and left, not wanting to look back. He would miss the little guy but things had to be done this way, it was a sign of mercy. The cherub was steadfast and focused entirely on getting the ship to the Mobius Mountains. He would complete his final order, a loyal servant to the end.
Fire Daemon moved into the building and saw familiar faces. 'Gentlemen' he proclaimed, 'what's on tap?'
CJ Sighed, boredom misting over his usually bright eyes. For the fifth time in so many minutes, he checked the fit and finish of his mouse and gamepad. Full power, just like the last time, and the time before that. Guard duty was beyond boring. Nothing ever happened. The uneasy truce between the Hardcore clans was still standing - if somewhat crookedly - in the face of the continuing Casual insurgency.Radelaide said:
Anything, oh please ANYTHING to alleviate this dullness! A freak meteor shower! A plauge of ferrets! ANYTHING!
With a sigh, he resigned himself to his continued fate, and re-re-re-calibrated the accuracy of the turret gun that he controlled with his mouse. 1:1, perfect.
Sigh...
"Coke." Loggy replied. "Good to have you with us, Daemon. I must warn you, though, Rex is on our team this time."Fire Daemon said:
Rex, seeing his new entry, waved sheepishly. Fire Daemon cocked his shotgun in response.
"I don't think he likes you." WanderFreak said. Rex shuddered, but said nothing.
Crouching low to the ground Radelaide holstered her controller, signalling her squad to do the same. She could see a guard post off into the distance. She pulled her map from her backpack and checked it quickly. "This," she thought, "shouldn't be here." She turned on her headpiece and contacted HQ. "Sir, I've located a Dynasty outpost. It's not marked on the map, should we investigate?" A few short minutes later, Major Nelson gave the green light, "Radelaide, if need be, you are also cleared for combat," he warned. "Understood, sir. Radelaide out."TheRealCJ said:
She gestured for her squad to follow her. They kept low to the ground as to not attract attention. Quickly and quietly Rade's squad approached the lookout. She grabbed her controller and powered it on...
"Well come now." rex said after a moment's hesitation. "I seem to remember the last time we were all together I got banished to the nexus of the universe where I broke one arm, Lost the other, as in litterally could not find it, got hit by blue whale and then shrunk and imprisoned in Logician's fancy box. You can't exactly expect me to be eager to be outnumbered by you TERP'ers."
Rex poured himself another glass and huddled his shoulders slightly. The logicians smiled devilishly in the corner.
"You know ... we need a name. Anyone got a good idea for a name?" nobody spoke until Rex raised his head and turned venoumous eyes to Loggy. "OK, how about The Esca-"
"NO! NO TERP's! I REFUSE TO WORK FOR THAT ORGANIZATION!"
"But ...why?"
"Lets be completley blunt about this. THEY KICKED MY ASS! I HAVE SELF RESPECT, LOGICIAN!"
"I know they kicked your ass. I kicked your ass, remember? Little Rex? 'Kill me, kill me'?" As evidence Loggy pulled his tiny cage from a deep fold of his cloak and held tiny Rex aloft.
"Ah Come on! You still have him! Thats just ... I can't even be around you guys right now." Rex popped another three asprin and called for whiskey from an invisible bartender. He seemed only mildly frustrated when it didn't arrive.
Rex poured himself another glass and huddled his shoulders slightly. The logicians smiled devilishly in the corner.
"You know ... we need a name. Anyone got a good idea for a name?" nobody spoke until Rex raised his head and turned venoumous eyes to Loggy. "OK, how about The Esca-"
"NO! NO TERP's! I REFUSE TO WORK FOR THAT ORGANIZATION!"
"But ...why?"
"Lets be completley blunt about this. THEY KICKED MY ASS! I HAVE SELF RESPECT, LOGICIAN!"
"I know they kicked your ass. I kicked your ass, remember? Little Rex? 'Kill me, kill me'?" As evidence Loggy pulled his tiny cage from a deep fold of his cloak and held tiny Rex aloft.
"Ah Come on! You still have him! Thats just ... I can't even be around you guys right now." Rex popped another three asprin and called for whiskey from an invisible bartender. He seemed only mildly frustrated when it didn't arrive.
CJ was snapped out of his revrie by a rusling in the long grass some twenty metres from his post. Powering up the turret, he called "Is anybody there", while at the same time thinking "Please be a troll, oh god please be something I can entertain myself with". The answer came in a way that was both shocking, and very, very painful. a single round appeared from somewhere in the grass, entering his shoulder and causing him to both cry out in pain, and drop the mouse controlling the turret, causing it to swing wildly, and, due to some horrible circumstance, cook off an entire belt of ammo towards the grass. Due to the wild swing and still sliding mouse, most of the round flew harmlessly into the distance, but one or two rustled the long blades that surely held his attacker.Radelaide said:
The last thing he heard before unconciousness claimed him was a high-pitched "Bloody hell that was close!"
Radelaide checked around to see if any of her men were hit, "Anyone hurt?" she whispered loudly. "Carter, Ma'am. It's only a flesh wound. He'll be okay", John replied. "Call a medic, get it patched up and get to the outpost. I'm going on ahead."TheRealCJ said:
She moved towards the post as John signalled his temporary leadership over the stopped squad. As she arrived, she heard a soft groan from inside. Opening a door and peering in, she saw no one else inside and slid into the room.
"Fools," she said as she kicked the lookouts hand gently. She had always had a soft spot for the PC dynasty, as she had one been one herself, but when it came time for the war, her alliance would always been with her beloved Xbox. Picking the man up, she tied him to the chair to later question him on the whereabouts of other outposts. Searching around the post, she found supplies, a few logbooks and some bizarre paraphernalia, perhaps a USB device of some sort? Radelaide had no intention of plugging it in and finding out what it was. She heard her squad coming towards the post, and she prepared her next plan of attack.
Ugh... ugh... "waaaake uuuppp"... ugh.... "HEY!"Radelaide said:
CJ felt the sharp sting across his face and the shrill voice that brought him back to reality. Although, in his opinion, he'd rather stay blacked out. The pain in his shoulder was near unbearable, he was sure he could still feel the shrapnel of the round grating against his collarbone. His eyes finally swam into focus and... a Girl?! Wearing the armor and insignia of the Xbox Clan?! Clearly the chestplate was not designed for such a petite frame, strips of leather held it together in places where burly men would have no trouble filling it's form. Burly men, that's what CJ had been expecting, the usual rough types that are the archetype of the Xbox clan.
Actually, he hadn't been expecting the Clan at all, wasn't there a truce?! What happened to all against one?! Why was he tied to a chair?!
Trying to struggle, and finding even that too painful, CJ slumped in his hastily-made rack, and instead just watched this... Xbox girl... stare at him from a safe distance. There was a noise at the door, and she turned away. Just long enough for CJ to whip his head around and take in his surroundings. let's see, everything seems to still be he-wait! Where was his prototype?! It had taken him MONTHS to get the circutry right! If it fell into the hands of these... Console gamers - CJ thought the phrase with so much venom it suprised him that his brain didn't melt - It would be disasterous.
Before he could start swearing at the top of his lungs, however, another slap brought his eyes back to the much more pressing problem of the armed-to-the-teeth Warrior... -ess... perched in front of him with the slightly worried look on her face...