Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Boredom, Fan fic and game analysis, Oh my!

A slow day on the newsroom floor. The on screen ticker of life scrolls slowly along, very little information of note to be passed through, except for the fact that everyone seems far to chipper considering the amount of booze I watched them drink last night. I realize that the entire point of my day is to leave here, swim this evening, and log onto BF2 to exact revenge on someone, for something. Not sure exactly what, but something.

So the other day, I was crouched down at the top of a hill overlooking a deep river. U.S. APC’s were rolling across the rocks and splashing their way towards out positions, while me and my valiant Chinese brothers watched on, quietly, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Le Quin came tumbling through the shrubs next to me, his hot sweaty hands pressed another volley of anti-tank rockets into my back, then he disappeared like the supply giving mystery enigma he always was. Somehow, like myself, Le would always survive the most intense firefights, while we watched out junior comrades melt like butter beneath the western imperialist hellfire, invading our lands, killing our brothers and sisters, until they came against my unit here in the Valley of the Dragon. They were so close now I could smell the diesel exhaust as they inexorably rolled their way up and out of the river, turrets moving left and right, scanning the area in a way I could sense was panicked. I could smell their fear, it was leaching out of their Yankee pores like so much mustard and beer.

Closer, closer now. They roll past us, hiding, squatting in the bushes, still, quiet, patient. The time has come now, as it has before and will again, the time to strike as the armored convoy presents us with its lightly armored rear, like a sweet university student at her first party. The time is now.

Slide the target reticule over the lumbering green giant. The rim of the scope turns red, as the men inside the vehicle begin to panic as they hear the warning sounds of their machine, indicating it is in mortal peril. My finger, seemingly in slow motion now, depresses the trigger. The missile sounds like a can of aerosol being blown out of a tight pipe, a hollow ‘whunk’ that an instant later is dissolved into a roar of steam as the rocket motor takes over, accelerating the missile along it trajectory, jerking me out of my slow motion revelry into the adrenaline pounding real time of combat, right into and through the rear left door panel of the APC. The fire begins, the screaming begins. The machine careers towards the river on the opposite side of the small island they have tried in vain to cross. The machine sits in waist deep water now, smoldering, smelling of burning oil, flesh and bone. The driver scrambles from the top, falls from the top into the water and wades back, bleeding from his ears, towards me. Behind him, the APC ignites into a column of fire and steel, spinning into the sky. He is blown forward, confused, disorientated. Now is my moment. I rush forward, un slinging my DAO-12 shotgun from my shoulder. It is over in a matter of seconds for him. Quick death, almost instant. In his shell shocked state he would have discerned little of my approach or of the shot that removed his head. Our job complete, we quickly retire back to the firebase to re supply.

BF2 fan fiction, sunk to a new low there. Although it did manage to kill a few minutes of the morning until I got bored of it. That whole last bit really did happen the other day, Sarah was watching even. The team playing the U.S. side could not break out of their firebase for the entire game. They couldn’t co-ordinate their air support to remove us from the hill we were dug into, even though their commander was trying, and they never even capped a single flag. Kind of pathetic really, unfortunate for the commander, but sometimes you just can’t help it if your team is full of tools.

5 Comments:

Blogger Clayton said...

hint: when you embed a vid in your blog, set autoplay to 0 instead of 1.

11:14 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Is it just me or does your blog have a soundtrack?

8:02 AM  
Blogger Clayton said...

see, that's why I mentioned the autoplay; visiting adam's blog right now means a lot of white noise seeming to come out of nowhere (the video)

10:58 PM  
Blogger Adam said...

I've since deleted the entire video post as it was for the most part not really very essential to the over arcing storyline of the feature wall.

However, I'm using the Crapanese version of IE on a school communal pc so I don't want to clear the cache to make the page reload as I may have published it (as this browser seems to hang on the republishing screen) I'll check it again later on this afternoon when I'm on my machine to make sure the change has been put in place properly.

Clay, exactly what facial expression are you going for with that avatar of yours? Also, I did remember seeing you that night in the snack bar, but when I tried to post a reply from this machine it messed it up somehow and then I got distracted by students/work things...

On the whole I have had a bit of a break from writting stuff recently, I find the spring break period is actually the hardest part of the year, all the inactivity and hellishly boring ceremony really gets on my back, so I've had little creative constructive output of late. It's levelling out now and getting back to normal so I'll be coming back and giving the ball another nudge.

Clay, what do you think about the idea of conspiracy week on the Saga
Blog? Take a different theory each day (cryptozoo, UFO's etc) and give them a write up each day?

8:50 AM  
Blogger Clayton said...

hey sounds interesting. You wanna week on the blog then?

My expression in the profile is scared yet titilated.

9:36 PM  

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