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jackofallgeeks01:01:48
What is the significance of this amount of time?
No, it is not how much sleep I get every night.
No, it's not how long I spend on Schoolwork each week.
No, it is not the precise duration of 3 months worth of building up some guts.
No, it's not the amount of time I take between meals.
It took me exactly one hour, one minute, and fourty-eght seconds of unbroken fighting to complete the final level in Unreal Tournament Capture The Flag. It was, well, unreal. Those chicks would just not let up, that there's only one way in and one way out from either base - you can't sneak up on them, and you can't make a quick getaway. Besides the fact that they had that insanely-good sniping post right infront of their flag. You just can't DEAL with those kind of odds.
The game started out well enough. As always, me and Slain we joined at the hip. If I only knew how to give out orders, then things would have been different. But there we were, me and my one-eyed siamese twin. Time streached on forever as either side tested the other. It was insane. To get to our base, you were stuck out in the open alomst 75% of the time - there WAS no cover. And when you finally made it there, you had to go down a tight, straight tunnel to find the flag. THEN you had to get out again. Getting to them was an uphill battle - quite literally. You had to go up three or 4 flights of stairs, directly up, and then when you got there, they had a wide open flag, but you had to cross a bridge to get it, and they had a sniper up on the boxes. Then you had to go down the way you came. Well, there was another way down, but it was usually messier. Much messier.
We managed to score twice, eventually, and then things got interesting. I don't know if I slacked, or maybe the guys did, but whatever happened, the chicks scored twice, very soon one after the other. Three points wins the game, so we went top of the world to the smoldering pits of Hell REAL quick. Then the bloodbath truely began.They were comming for us, we were going for them, and we met in the middle - disturbingly off towards our side, though. Blood rained, gibs flew, all was smoke and chaos.
Somehow, through the blood, sweat, and tears, I managed to claw my way to the top. I don't know if therer wasn't anybody there, or if I'd simply ignored the sting of the bullets. We made it to the top, and a couple of well placed Flak shots took out the guard. My twin grabbed the flag. Fine, let him have it. The computer prolly knows better what to do with it than I do.
He didn't. He decided to go the other way. The messy way. He chose...poorly.
I raced his breathing corpse to the bottom, jumping down the flights of stairs, and this time I knew I'd been shot, by flak and plasma and cold, hard steel. But it didn't matter. Through the blood and gibs that had once been my companion, I managed to grab the flag. Taking another few shots in the back, I dived into the water, under the sub, and towards home base.
My heart races as I made it to the other side, and a re-spawned Slain greeted me on the familiar shore. Sore, bleeding, crazed by the finality of it all, I ran up the stairs, around the corner, down the hall...! SCORE! The game was over. The end was here. We had survived; we had conquered.
I sit here, legs sore, mouth numb, shoulder crying in forgotten pain, and I am tiumphant.
What is the significance of this amount of time?
No, it is not how much sleep I get every night.
No, it's not how long I spend on Schoolwork each week.
No, it is not the precise duration of 3 months worth of building up some guts.
No, it's not the amount of time I take between meals.
It took me exactly one hour, one minute, and fourty-eght seconds of unbroken fighting to complete the final level in Unreal Tournament Capture The Flag. It was, well, unreal. Those chicks would just not let up, that there's only one way in and one way out from either base - you can't sneak up on them, and you can't make a quick getaway. Besides the fact that they had that insanely-good sniping post right infront of their flag. You just can't DEAL with those kind of odds.
The game started out well enough. As always, me and Slain we joined at the hip. If I only knew how to give out orders, then things would have been different. But there we were, me and my one-eyed siamese twin. Time streached on forever as either side tested the other. It was insane. To get to our base, you were stuck out in the open alomst 75% of the time - there WAS no cover. And when you finally made it there, you had to go down a tight, straight tunnel to find the flag. THEN you had to get out again. Getting to them was an uphill battle - quite literally. You had to go up three or 4 flights of stairs, directly up, and then when you got there, they had a wide open flag, but you had to cross a bridge to get it, and they had a sniper up on the boxes. Then you had to go down the way you came. Well, there was another way down, but it was usually messier. Much messier.
We managed to score twice, eventually, and then things got interesting. I don't know if I slacked, or maybe the guys did, but whatever happened, the chicks scored twice, very soon one after the other. Three points wins the game, so we went top of the world to the smoldering pits of Hell REAL quick. Then the bloodbath truely began.They were comming for us, we were going for them, and we met in the middle - disturbingly off towards our side, though. Blood rained, gibs flew, all was smoke and chaos.
Somehow, through the blood, sweat, and tears, I managed to claw my way to the top. I don't know if therer wasn't anybody there, or if I'd simply ignored the sting of the bullets. We made it to the top, and a couple of well placed Flak shots took out the guard. My twin grabbed the flag. Fine, let him have it. The computer prolly knows better what to do with it than I do.
He didn't. He decided to go the other way. The messy way. He chose...poorly.
I raced his breathing corpse to the bottom, jumping down the flights of stairs, and this time I knew I'd been shot, by flak and plasma and cold, hard steel. But it didn't matter. Through the blood and gibs that had once been my companion, I managed to grab the flag. Taking another few shots in the back, I dived into the water, under the sub, and towards home base.
My heart races as I made it to the other side, and a re-spawned Slain greeted me on the familiar shore. Sore, bleeding, crazed by the finality of it all, I ran up the stairs, around the corner, down the hall...! SCORE! The game was over. The end was here. We had survived; we had conquered.
I sit here, legs sore, mouth numb, shoulder crying in forgotten pain, and I am tiumphant.
