Trojan Volunteers - LovePuppy 23, Terminal 1
Posted By: Steve LevinsonDate: 11/9/05 3:43 p.m.

The Netgame that Never Was

Hamish (aka 'Nuckelavee') looked out across the barren wastes into the far distance. Dressed only in war-paint & kilt and sporting his favorite set of Magnum .44s he watched intently for signs of life. "Come on, you louse!" he shouted as he spied a distant map-designer loitering on the horizon. "I give you space to write your own credits and you haven't even used it yet!" Loosing off another couple of rounds he swore he would have his Revenge for all those misaligned textures.

The first few had fallen easily: Matt met his early demise when his Mac decided to try and boot from a bootleg beta of Windows 3.1 just for a change - the resulting blast levelled much of the neighbourhood.

And the heroic Shklovskii tried his best to fend off the attacking hordes - but armed with only a PB190 for defense, all the odds were stacked against him though he had battled on as best he could.


Suddenly, a single shot rings out, the projectile exploding only feet away from the surprised Hamish. Behind the puff of smoke Hamish can see that it is Chris Ashton, a noted mapmaker, artist, web author and creator of the mighty Trojan Promo. "Scum!" Chris screams. "Bad little man, I've been at your side for more than a year, and you dare fire upon me now!" The rage in Chris takes contol of his body as he aims the gun again, he pulls the trigger when suddenly, a beta version of AOL 3.0 explodes, leaving his computer useless for weeks.


As Chris sat there sobbing at the mess of metal and plastic laying before him, Hamish bellowed a wicked laugh. Revelling in his own success, Hamish did not notice the ground beneath him begin to part, an eerie smoke raising from its depths. Slowly the victor's laugh was replaced by a stranger's chuckle. With great caution and equal wonderment, Hamish looked into the creavice below. The whimpers from Chris also ceased as he gazed at the smoke! When all of a sudden a great gust of wind sent Hamish flying across the valley and into the remains of Chris' computer. Hamish, grimacing with pain and shaking the clouds from his eyes, looked back into the smoke, the chuckle, now an audible roar, was ringing in his head. He could tell it was coming from something in the smoke... "Who are you? What are you?" Hamish demanded to know.

The words came piercing toward the fallen victor. Another gust of wind caused Hamish to lose his balance and tumble across the ground. As Hamish regained his wits, he looked up once again this time beholding the figure from the depths of the smoke. He could see a smile cross Chris' face...

"Mike!" Chris yelled as he got to his feet and ran toward his friend. "Long time, no see!"
Mike, a comicbook artist, screen designer, Star Wars finatic and Mac enthusiast, stood there in the midst of the disappating smoke.
"Sorry I couldn't come sooner," Mike apologized.
Chris looked at the ground. "Neat effects!"
"Yeah, you can do some neat stuff with a Quake demo," Mike replied turning his attention to the guy in the kilt. "And now its our turn to raise some hell! Here!"

Mike reached into his side bag and retrived to small black boxes. Chris rubbed his eyes as he recognized what Mike was handing him. A new Apple PowerBook 5400! Two Gig hard drive, 604e processor, 160MHz, 6X cdrom, built in zip-drive, SVGA 12.1 screen, T-10 ethernet w/ a 33.6 modem, wireless printing and an SCSI slot for 6 other connections. This was power.

"Ready?" Mike said as they booted up their machines.
"Ready!" Chris responded.
Hamish had a look of pure horror on his face as he slowly began to walk backwards.
"Come on guys," Hamish begged,"it's just a game."
"Yes, it is a game," Mike said.
"A netgame," Chris sneered, "a netgame, in which you never were!"


Meanwhile, in a dark underground section of sewer lined with gallons of putrid sludge and carpeted with rotting alien corpses resides darkmind. Battle is not on his mind at this hour as he is preoccupied at a repair terminal with an armful of uplink chips furiously attempting to find the one that will close the troubled circuit responsible for playing the background music. Later he would discover his brave attempts were completely fruitless due to QuickTime 2.5 being disabled in the Extensions Manager. In disgust, he threw all the chips to the ground and proceeded to track down Hamish who was, in fact, involved in the conspiracy. When confronted, and a motive demanded for his actions, his only reply was: "But the bloody thing kept crashing Morgana!"


In a small town in the middle of nowhere, a lone figure stands in the middle of the street. It is Jason, and he has aquired a taste for alien blood. For some reason, he can smell alien corpses coming through the manhole cover. His mouth waters and he dives into the sewer. The aliens are not fresh, they are rotten. Alien blood is only good fresh. Upset he draws his chain gun and fires aimlessly. The flashing of the barrel illuminates the tunnel and sees darkmind at a computer terminal. He carefully aims at him. Darkmind is very afraid. Jason pulls the trigger, but luckily for darkmind, the gun is empty. Darkmind points his gun at Jason. Jasons heart races and he can see the anger in darkmind's eyes. Jason is ready to die, since the woman he cared for told him that he was unattractive and he had nothing to live for. But today he didn't want to die. Today he wanted revenge for his bad fortune. Jason smiled and said, "Darkmind, would you like a Pez?" Jason lifted up a Pez dispenser and offered him a cherry Pez. Darkmind lowered his weapon and accepted the gift. Darkmind reached his arm out and Jason tackled him and took his gun.

He pointed it at darkmind. He was ready to pull the trigger, but being the clutz he is, he forgot to tie his shoes and he tripped in the sewer and accidentally shot himself.


darkmind, standing in utter amazement at the scene that had just transpired, reaches to pick the weapon up and just when he is ready to rearm the weapon, the cherry Pez catches his eye. Unknown to him is Steve lurking in the shadows of the never-ending tunnel. He has observed the Pez transaction and the scarifical death of Jason.

Knowing that "cherry" Pez is a rare find, he takes out his own missile launcher and "whistle" Pez to hopefully make a trade to acquire this rare find, a cherry Pez. darkmind, ever mindful of what he has now acquired, glares at Steve now emerging from the shadows. But, unkown to both of them Jason is only wounded. Seeing two Pez's now, and having no weapons, he contemplates on his next move. But, lo and behold the master of the tunnel maps, Tony walks up.

At this time Jason remains absolutely still. Steve, unable to unload a missle towards Tony due to the his abrupt arrival on the scene and his closeness to the group that has now gathered, is now unsure what to do. darkmind at this time has secretly loaded a fusion pistol with a new battery and is ready to take the 2nd Pez and hopefully walk away with the Pez find of the century...

Jason, laying absolutely still on the ground, decides his next move and the tunnel map king, Tony starts to contemplate on whether or not he wants the "pez's" or the easy automatic kills.


And, in true vidmaster fashion, Tone opts for the kills, jumping high into the air, like the famed salmon leaps of Celtic warriors of yore, he drops slap into the middle of the Pez-pondering proles and, spinning through a full 360 degrees roasts the lot of 'em in plasma fire.

"Truly, I am a Smitemaster," he cries, relieving himself mightily upon the charred bodies of his foes, that evening's prodigious beer - Fuller's London Pride and Elridge Pope's Hardy Country Bitter - consumption having finally overwhelmed his bladder. "I laugh in the face of fear! I tweak the nose of terror!"

But wait, what is that trace on the motion detector? It can only be Hamish, pursuing the Smitemaster with more fiendishly tough maps that need making, more levels that need the addition of monsters and weapons to kill them with.

Cycling round to his assault rifle, the Smitemaster, prepares to ambush the terror of the glens and laugh mightily at his skirt...


He had been there all along... watching... waiting. A missle between his teeth, blood dripping from his hair, alien goo stuck to his shoes.

Walking slowly towards Smitemaster, he ripped off his shirt, revealing the words Total Carnage burnt on his chest. Smitemaster, who finally noticed his presence, turned and aimed his FOG-5k plasma cannon at the stranger.

"Halt!" Smitemaster ordered, "Stop where you are!"
The stranger stopped. "You won't be needing that," he said, pointing to Smitemaster's weapon.
"No! I won't... be needing it," Smitemaster replied intimidated, frightened. "I'll still fight you, but..."
"Man to man," the stranger quietly urged.
"...man to man," Smitemaster added quickly.

Smitemaster lowered his plasma cannon, letting it drop to the floor, and walked slowly towards the stranger. Standing in a defensive posture, the stranger beckoned Smitemaster to come closer.
"There can be only one Englishman," the stranger explained, face to face with his opponent. He points towards Hamish, who is now no more than 10 feet away. Smitemaster turned slightly to get a better look at Hamish.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, the stranger quickly removed his .44 Magnum from his pocket and pressed it against Smitemasters forehead.

"But you said..." Smitemaster exclaimed startled. "Why?"
"Because you lack loyalty, you fool!" Hamish bellowed, coming closer and entering the scene. "Did you really think that you could get away with this?"
"Well..." Smitemaster answered, "Mike and Chris said it would all work out."
"So they're behind all this!" the stranger concluded.
"Yes, Jos, they are," Hamish said, the grief clearly visible in his eyes. "I should have known. They showed so much promise!"
"Oh well... Come Jos, off we go. We've got some traitors to catch." Hamish said.
"What about him?" Jos asked, reminding Hamish of Smitemaster.
"Kill him."

And so they left the small town, its ground stained with blood, leaving countless bodies behind...
"My God, Jos, you need plastic surgery!" Hamish said, joking. "All those scars!"
"Nah, I like 'em. Besides, they scare the hell out of the enemy!"
Jos sneered: "You aren't exactly beautiful yourself you know. Look at that kilt! You need some new clothes, HAS; and I'm not just saying that..."


Suddenly, shiny whirling objects started to fly at the two heroes:

"AOL disks at 3 o'clock!" Hamish yelled, reaching for his magnums. Three CD's and a disk blew apart, Hamish's magnum smoking. The two vidmasters ducked behind a nearby tree, guns at the ready.

A repetitive beeping noise could be heard, and slowly became louder. Busy signals! A low wail of "50 free hours" was heard in the distance. The noise became unbearable, and

"Hamish, there's only one thing we can do now," Jos said, two cyanide capsules in his hand.

As if on cue, shots were heard, and the rain of disks slowed. A lone warrior emerged from the direction the disks were flowing, dressed in the shattered remnants of the AOL CD's, and carrying a SPNKR missle launcher and a hardbound book, which he threw to Hamish's feet.

Hamish, astonished, spoke: "Thanks for the manual, Ben"


To Be Continued........

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Pre-2004 Posts


Trojan Volunteers - LovePuppy 23, Terminal 1Steve Levinson 11/9/05 3:43 p.m.
     Re: Trojan Volunteers - LovePuppy 23, Terminal 1kyjel 11/9/05 4:08 p.m.
           Come on, there's rich content here - let's discuss *NM*Steve Levinson 11/10/05 9:47 a.m.
     Re: Trojan Volunteers - LovePuppy 23, Terminal 1Adam Ashwell 11/11/05 1:51 p.m.
           Re: Trojan Volunteers - LovePuppy 23, Terminal 1Steve Levinson 11/12/05 9:40 a.m.
                 Re: Trojan Volunteers - LovePuppy 23, Terminal 1Adam Ashwell 11/12/05 12:15 p.m.

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Pre-2004 Posts



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