ianc

Sorry gents, it was just too good to let it die without a concise summary. Just read and don't add however, or surely dear Mattie (Mad type) will become very irritated with me... ...and then the FAQ said "No, I don't care what you think." I was dismayed to say the least. I then strapped my flamethrower back on and left for the pub, because a pint of Stout is definitely recommended if you have to carry a blimmin' flamethrower into battle. Unfortunately I was only half-way down the road when I came across a dead body. But there was no blood! Taking the nearly full bottle of Macallan from its outstretched hand, I uncorked it and wondered why there never seem to be any pretty girls when one is carrying a flamethrower. And that's one of the chief reasons I dislike it so. The other, of course, being the fact that crossing a busy street is really dangerous with such a lumbering object on your back. I therefore decided to leave that for the moment and see if Seanachai had sent me my turn yet. Perhaps I should get a life or perhaps just a bigger nozzle. I reckoned, oh well, what the hell, ya gotta go sometime. And so with a bloodcurdling scream I directed a searing burst of flame at a nearby nest of kitty cats, who ran squealing and burning into the quicksand, which ended their firey worries but soon finished them off anyways, much to the horror of the slack-jawed, gape-eyed gang of Mormon mothers standing on the sidelines. But then again, they themselves are yet another good reason for carrying a flamethrower. I gesticulate menacingly at them and they scurry off like a gaggle of incontintent rats, leaving me available for such worthy pursuits as tag team thumb wrestling or perhaps a rowsing game of "got your nose" with the inhabitants of the nearest geriatric home where you can find Seanachai and his pet, which I duly torched, seeing that it was full of tube-hugging redlegs who never in their lives have seen the enemy as close as I did. Thinking that this is all in a day's work for your friend the flamethrowerman, I gazed at the clouds as a squadron of PzMkIVs with superior-but-not-really-modeled optics roared into view and ground the squishy infantry into gooey jelly. I still wondered about Seanachai's pet, now perished in the flames, and tucked the now half-empty bottle of Macallan in my pocket as Seanachai writes bad Celtic poetry in memory of his pet naked mole rat, while awaiting the return of his grandson who came to help him change his diapers and clean his dentures (not in that order). "Back in my day..." his story would begin, as he would sit in his favorite comfy chair and gently tug upon his very old and almost rotten waist-coat, 'Back when I still had teeth and could put a thought or two together, mind you, every so often you may mistake my inane ramblings for genius, then we did not even know flamethrowers and we had to make do with silly puddy. You should see that stuff burn! We used to light up a ball of silly puddy and throw it at Panzer mark IVs. That was ussually enough to set those cardboard tanks on fire." Then he would nod off into a restless sleep as far away, above the arctic circle Dr. Pengenstein's monster drifted lazily through the freezing water, encased in a block of ice, thinking cold thoughts and biding his time until suddenly, a ship came by toting a disoriented and totally befuddled Elijah Meeks! Meeks berated Pengenstein's monster for 12 minutes, at which time the monster jumped aboard Meeks' boat and beat him senseless, a state recognizable by insufficient respect for the superb PzMkIV armored killing machine. Finding the putrid Meeksian corpse indigestible, the monster ditched his machine-gun, and ran for the hills! There were men chasing him now, and he wasn't about to be caught holding the gun! He ran past men on bicycles, past horses pulling artillery, past the nearby McDonalds where he ran into the one who is named after the feline creatures he abused. He eyed her contemptuously and stated ..."is that really you in that picture? There is no way that a woman with any attractive qualities could possibly have interest or knowledge in WWII. Moreover, I've never spoken to woman before, and this would break my streak." To which she replied .."duck!" as an angry mob led by the lost Frenchman threw a duck through the front window and proceeded to ransack the restaurant. "This way" she said, and they ran out the back door, right into me, bearing the bottle of Macallan, desperately trying to hold off the Mormon wives with the flame-thrower, but to no avail. All seemed lost, when suddenly a very bad orchestra began playing an Arthur Fiedler adaptation of Debussy's 'Afternoon of a faun', the sunset took on a romantic purplish hue, and Sean-itchy and Kitty gazed at each other as if seeing each other for the first time. Their limpid gaze was indicative of a slight mental hiccup, as if their brains had decided to give it a miss and go for a lovely cup of tea. "Giiirlll...?" drooled Seanachai blearily as he reached for his flamethrower, because in the corner of his eye he could see his latino life-partner, Enrique. "Que?" his live in lover responded. Seanachai knew that something was amiss when... FAQ-MAN hero to all non-thinkers everywhere, asked "Do u think i could light my cigarette with that flamethrower?" "Ha Ha,I was just kidding, I really already knew the answer. Actually I wanted to show you my etchings. This one is a Schwervolksgemüsespüler Ausf. G/44a1+ with the optional Insta-hot. I remember the time that I was" ...gurgle... His death mewlings bordered on the pathetic as I strangled him carelessly for his unforgiveable transgression against my stream-of-consciousness. I focused again on Spleen-itchy and Kitty, and wondered what could possibly unite such variegated talents in the common pursuit of one objective? And where precisely does the flamethrower tie in with this? Stain-icky's hand trembled as he reached again for his flamethrower as two of the singed kitty cats -- now really pissed because their little noses were full of sand -- had escaped. He pulled the trigger, loosing a jet of jellied gas. He missed but it didn't matter because the next instant Hiram came careening around the corner in his 2-cylinder Daf, obviously out of control. Sliding sideways on two wheels he hit the curb, spun around like Stuka's boys in the attack, and landed smack on top of the poor semi-boiled kittenses. Hiram, dazed so no different, kicked open the drivers door and was immediately squashed into a gooey pulp by the kitchen sink that mysteriously fell out of the empty sky. Seanachoo looked up and said "Oh dear, it's starting" when the White Knight started talking backwards. Meanwhile, the disgusting monster (who had wisely passed on Meeks' remains) siezed a nearby MP40 and several spare magazines and...

Hiram sez: <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Uh, Jackson, the first post is what was really important. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Not so my dear sir! The bumps were the silk wrapping around the turnip! They were the raison d'etre for telling everyone to get FAQ'ed! ianc

...gurgle... His death mewlings bordered on the pathetic as I strangled him carelessly for his unforgiveable transgression against my stream-of-consciousness. I focused again on Spleen-itchy and Kitty, and wondered what could possibly unite such variegated talents in the common pursuit of one objective? And where precisely does the flamethrower tie in with this? Stain-icky's hand trembled as he reached...

...suddenly a very bad orchestra began playing an Arthur Fiedler adaptation of Debussy's 'Afternoon of a faun', the sunset took on a romantic purplish hue, and Sean-itchy and Kitty gazed at each other as if seeing each other for the first time. Their limpid gaze was indicative of a...

... the slack-jawed, gape-eyed gang of Mormon mothers standing on the sidelines. But then again, they themselves are yet another good reason for carrying a flamethrower. I gesticulate menacingly at them and they scurry off like a gaggle of incontintent rats, leaving me available for such worthy pursuits as...

...there never seem to be any pretty girls when one is carrying a flamethrower. And that's one of the chief reasons I dislike it so. The other, of course, being...

Hi Garry, I may be dumb (probably am), but I'm not seeing the D\L link on this page... Thanks, ianc

FAQ you all! ianc

Don't argue about which keys are best; argue for a configurable keyboard option like all fps games have anyway! ianc

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>The CAPITALS can be a giveaway!!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Nah, he spelled everything right. ianc

Dalem, your site is very good! Loved the pics! ianc

That looks really good and is about the best I've seen so far. I just don't like the partially-whitewashed schemes; most shots I've seen have had the vehicle fully whitened. I'll keep checking CMHQ for it, and thanks Tiger! ianc

Using an NEC P1150 that I scammed most unfairly from work and it's damned awesome compared to my old 17". I'd never go back. You wouldn't believe how much porn you can fit on the screen at one time! ianc

I can't believe no one chose the Churchill tank. What a putrid slug! ianc

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>I may soon be fighting for CM playing time! <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> You gotta work it buddy! This is your perfect excuse to give her your old computer to play CM on and buy yourself a new PIII (or Athlon or G4 or whatever) hotrod! ianc

I also don't have a problem with the current point values. American tanks do perhaps seem expensive in relation to German ones. I began to think about this and came to the conclusion that perhaps the typical units that one might purchase in a QB, (such as a Hellcat, E8, Jackson, or Firefly) are actually pretty competent vehicles. Ever led or suffered a full-platoon Hellcat charge down a flank? I think the point value ratings should ONLY be dependant on combat values. What the Allies can currently purchase for a QB is certainly well capable of taking on what the axis can field for the same price. That's all that matters. ianc

Points values are for setting up balanced scenarios, not to reflect historical rarity... ianc

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>I know I'm nitpicking but I was considering using '808' myself on a mod until I discovered the standard numbering system in use in 1944/45 makes this number very rare, though not impossible.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Yeah, but the point of the whole exercise is that 808 is symmetrical and will make sense on either side of the turret, whereas almost nothing else will. 'Sides, it looks damn cool. Great work Fernando! ianc

Yes, it's great. The only trouble is I keep wanting to pan and zoom my way through life now... ianc

Pretty much just 1-5. ianc

Marco, These look fabulous and you deserve high praise! Thanks for your efforts, ianc

Well well. I've not ventured here for many a moon, but it appears that I've been criminally dragged here for a brief, infecting guest appearance since I cannot possibly allow myself to be taunted in absentia. How foul of you, Skinachey (what sort of rickety cranky name is that anyway? One to teach your offspring to avoid at any cost I believe, but I digress...), to have forced me to return by wielding the threat of my public defenestration without representation! It is true that you did eke out a marginal advantage over me last time, but this was largely due to the collateral damage induced early on during your senile and quite fantastical raccoon jihad. Couldn't you just see your way clear to give a lower mammal a break? My men were also hampered by a large quantity of kitty litter (the clumping kind) delivered in error to the wrong side of the battlefield which totally fouled their jackboots. Add to these debilitating disadvantages the inane patter constantly emanating from certain inbred characters whom I certainly did not invite, and who could possibly be expected to prevail? However, I'm glad you've consented to another match, since this time I have some very valuable tutoring laid on for you. The first lesson will be on mountain climbing, what not to do with German tanks, What TO do with American tanks, and what to do when an enemy suddenly appears behind you. I must admit to having a secret fondness for those beefy 12-man US squads as well. Rather makes the average 8 or 9-man German squad look positively squiffy, doesn't it? All this and more await you in your next publicly available truncation of stature. The psychological effect of the inability to brew up as Germans will also, I'm sure, aid in the further erosion of your already frangible chances for anything more than complete rout. Rip off a few last Horst Wessels while you still have some bogey wheels, because I really think you'll be rather busy shortly... Your Lord and Master, ianc

I agree with Wilhammer. I've never let the computer choose for me, and I've blown a couple setups because I forgot to change this, or just didn't click it right... ianc

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>All that has been shown is that at higher RPMs and gear settings a turret can traverse faster. Leaping to "in combat situations, the traverse speed of these two AFV's was considerably greater than we see modelled in the game" is just that, a leap. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Hi Cav, I'm not sure the assumption that crews will do all they can to get their weapon on target as quickly as possible in a combat situation could necessarily be termed 'a leap'. That is, of course, just my opinion. I suppose it is entirely possible that they may have preferred to use the slowest traverse setting when their lives were in imminent danger, but to be objective, I would invite others here to comment on this. Any tankers in the crowd think this is an unreasonable or insupportable assumption? ianc [This message has been edited by ianc (edited 10-13-2000).]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>We have seen the range that the turrets can traverse at different RPMs but I don't recall, and after reviewing the thread again, or see what you have just claimed. Perhaps I missed it. Where is it at?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Hi Cav, This seems fairly clear to me, so I'm not sure if simple obfuscation is not your aim here. Assuming that it is not, I guess for us to reach this conclusion, we operate on some facts, and some assumptions. For facts we have John Waters supplying: <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>French 1947 tests with the Panther & data at Samur confirm German data, both should be classed as 'fast' Ie, Panther - 18 secs 360^ @ 2500rpm. KT - 19 secs, 360^ @ 2000rpm 10 secs 360^ @ 3000rpm<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> machineman also adds: <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>From extracts of a March 15, 1945 US Army report, quoted in 'Tiger Tanks' by Michael Green. "Results: It was found that, with the engine turning over at 2000 rpm and with the high ratio engaged, the turret traversed 360 in 19 seconds. With low ratio, the time required was 40 seconds" George Forty's German Tanks of WWII gives this for the Panther: "...driver and gunner had to work as a team to produce fast traversing....For example, in high ratio, at 2500 rpm, the turret could be traversed in 17-18 seconds, while in low ratio at 1000 rpm it took 92-93 seconds."<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Now we see that considerably higher traverse rates than depicted in the game are factual, if one accepts these references. This leaves us with an assumption to make, and that is: if the crew were in a life-threatening combat situation, would they do whatever was necessary to traverse the gun on target as quickly as possible? The answer to this one seems fairly simple to me as well... ianc