THE BLOODY PENG CHALLENGE THREAD: ESCAPE FROM DOWNUNDER

[Geier]

After killing the entire staff of my ISP I have been unable to send any files to any of the Dead Things that I could send files to.

This may be rectified in a day or three. Have a lousy next year, my son got a flamethrower for Xmas.

Yes, it was originally Ethans fecking flamer and no, he won't be getting it back.

Meanwhile offline I'm blissfully recreating my countrys Real History (TbloodyM) using my brilliance and Europa Universalis.

Don't go to Denmark during the 16th century. It's full of dead Danes and mean Swedes. Russia is next.

Toodle-o

Johan

P.S Hiram. You suck.

[Berlichtingen]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Now that the holiday season has defecated upon us, I see that most of the pool inhabitants are doing more important things than posting and reading...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

...or in Bauhaus' case even playing CM. Has anyone else noticed that Bauhaus hasn't been sending turns? And why, you might ask? BECAUSE THAT LITTLE GIRLY BOY IS TO BUSY PLAYING SOME SISSY SNOWBOARDING GAME ON PS2, THAT'S WHY!

[Mark IV]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Berlichtingen:

BECAUSE THAT LITTLE GIRLY BOY IS TO BUSY PLAYING SOME SISSY SNOWBOARDING GAME ON PS2, THAT'S WHY!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Oh, SHAME. Perhaps we should consider the first Cesspool exile. Punitive measures are called for.

Hiram has responded to the challenge. Let's see if there's anything besides cotton candy in his little holster.

[Hiram Sedai]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Mark IV:

Oh, SHAME. Perhaps we should consider the first Cesspool exile. Punitive measures are called for.

Hiram has responded to the challenge. Let's see if there's anything besides cotton candy in his little holster.

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Flatulance will get you nowhere, Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Having roman numerals after your name doesn't scare me, Bucko. Pick a side, any side. Just don't be Swiss.

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Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. - Blaise Pascal

[Mark IV]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Hiram Sedai:

Having roman numerals after your name doesn't scare me, Bucko. Pick a side, any side. Just don't be Swiss.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Side: Picked.

Swiss: Not.

Setup: Sent (it seems so long ago, now).

Roman Numerals: VERY scary, because

Hiram: holster filled with cotton candy, ran away, disappeared, no response, quivering under his covers like a snivelling little Calvinist with low self-esteem and a doggie johnnie-come-lately everybody-gets-lucky-sometime football team to boot. Neener, neener, neener.

[This message has been edited by Mark IV (edited 12-27-2000).]

[Marlow]

So now Christmas is over, the last present is opened, the last piece of pumpkin pie eaten, and the last Bass Ale taken from the fridge. There is no time to discuss the finer points of Calvin and other heretics, there is killin' to be done. (What next? The Zen of CM? It is a sure sign of the coming if the apocalypse when theology is discussed in even semi-serious tones in the Cesspool.) Like the loaves and fishes, files will be sent tonight to the multitudes who are starving for my tender mercies.

Hiram, too bad about Audrey. I hope your next kitty decides to use your pillow for its litterbox.

God Save the Peng

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This message brought to you by

Marlow's Salvage and Wrecking Service,

Proud Sponsor of The Cesspool

aka The 'Meeks currently exists as Polar Bear excrement' Memorial Thread

[This message has been edited by Marlow (edited 12-27-2000).]

[Mark IV]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Marlow:

There is no time to discuss the finer points of Calvin and other heretics, there is killin' to be done.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

With Hiram there is time to read the Manhattan telephone book out loud, cover to cover.

What I mean by "blitz" is you sit there and wait for my bloody turns, plot and return within 10 minutes (for a scenario this size), and then you may go and crack another beer or pee (I recommend alternating between odd and even turns, to avoid unpleasnat mistakes).

You may not engage in protracted bathroom visits, as you are expected to exercise the same control over your sphincter that we ask of family pets. You may not plead that you "have a life" because you were bemoaning the lack of same at the beginning of this little exchange, and besides, getting slaughtered by me IS a life.

In short, you are now about 6 turns in arrears. And yes, Calvin was a heretic.

[Hiram Sedai]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Mark IV:

Side: Picked.

Swiss: Not.

Setup: Sent (it seems so long ago, now).

Roman Numerals: VERY scary, because

Hiram: holster filled with cotton candy, ran away, disappeared, no response, quivering under his covers like a snivelling little Calvinist with low self-esteem and a doggie johnnie-come-lately everybody-gets-lucky-sometime football team to boot. Neener, neener, neener.

[This message has been edited by Mark IV (edited 12-27-2000).]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Mark IV,

I'm off today because I went to get an EKG. We can do TCPIP, if you have the CO-JONES. Comprende Vous?

Meet me in the CMHQ chat room at 1:00 EST so we can hurl invectives.

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Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. - Blaise Pascal

[Berlichtingen]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Hiram Sedai:

I'm off<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Yes, that is correct

[Hiram Sedai]

I know that I give so little and ask for so much, so why stop now??

I want to play Elvis in a PBEM. I don't want to throw another sad little QB at him again. I want something so pernicious that the attachment would make his co-workers make the sign of the cross when they see the email attachment. I want malevolence so putrid that my ex-cat would be aghast. Who here can help a brutha out? (Actually, I want to play longer than my normal 5 turns. I suffer from premature PBEM emasculation)

So, a map and some troops please, Oh Masters of CM. I plead before the Tribunal of Peng that a map of medium or large proportion be created and evil units be placed upon them.

Forget about fair. I want to win. But, don't make it seem like I'm cheating, just say its a Beta thing and everyone will understand. Like, sorry honey, its a beta thing, just finish yourself off and let me play some more CM because I need more practice so I can beat someone besides Moriarty. Not that he wasn't a worthy oponent and all, its just that I need, really need to beat Shandorf some time before next May so I can dance my little Hiram dance on his lawn.

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Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. - Blaise Pascal

[Mark IV]

Originally posted by Hiram Sedai:

I'm off today because I went to get an EKG.

You do not need an EKG. You are already dead.

We can do TCPIP, if you have the CO-JONES. Comprende Vous?

Ich verstehe but try to grok that I don't TCPIP yet and I am certainly not going to start on this raggedy old thing.

Meet me in the CMHQ chat room at 1:00 EST so we can hurl invectives.

I prefer hurling lead to invective. I may drop by, but what about the painstaking setup I already sent you, you ungrateful wretch? I have now ruined that scenario for play with decent folk, so you are honor bound to finish it, even if it takes until June.

[Hiram Sedai]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Mark IV:

Ich bin ein wussyboy <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Okay, chowderhead, we can do some blitzing. I didn't know you were a TCPIP virgin though. I'll be gentle, I promise.

I'll even host too. It won't hurt a bit and I'll respect you in the morning.

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Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. - Blaise Pascal

[Berlichtingen]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>So, a map and some troops please, Oh Masters of CM. I plead before the Tribunal of Peng that a map of medium or large proportion be created and evil units be placed upon them. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Oh, I think something can be arranged. Have you a preference as to attack, defend or meeting engagement?

[Berlichtingen]

Ok, Hiram, the scenario is on its way to you. You will be commanding the Cunucks in their gallent attempt to dislodge Elvis from his ridge line.

[Lorak]

Ummm, religion in the cesspool... this in itself is not upsetting. What is upsetting is the multitude that have falling away from my teachings. I do not care to be your religion, I only care to teach you the path to my greatness.

Now... until I can get to work and wax poetic, here is a simple lesson in Lorak's greatness.

Effortless Effort

The mind of a perfect man is like a mirror. It grasps nothing. It expects nothing. It reflects but does not hold. Therefore, the perfect man can act without effort.

Lorak the loathed

"omnipresent authority figure"

[Seanachai]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Berlichtingen:

...or in Bauhaus' case even playing CM. Has anyone else noticed that Bauhaus hasn't been sending turns? And why, you might ask? BECAUSE THAT LITTLE GIRLY BOY IS TOO BUSY PLAYING SOME SISSY SNOWBOARDING GAME ON PS2, THAT'S WHY!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

First, just let me say that snowboarding is a special purgatory reserved for teenagers and other young adults who's primary career path will most often involve correct repetition of the phrase: 'Do you want fries with that?'. Real human beings ski, if they must rush down mountains at high speed.

Secondly, the same may be said of any human being who plays with a ps2. Indeed, much worse things may be said, and will be said. I had not thought even as vile an individual as Bauhaus would actually involve themselves with this form of entertainment, the gaming equivalent of crack. Bauhaus, my lad, using those hideous playstation machines lowers your intelligence, and, like buying a red sportscar or having an affair with a 22 year old in your office, is the sign of a midlife crisis. A sad, disturbing attempt to recapture youth that everyone else is snickering about behind your back(and, while not as expensive as either of the other two, it is also nowhere near as much fun, either).

Now, Bauhaus, how sad that Berli had to be the one to tell us this. You should be reaching out to the rest of us for help yourself, instead of forcing him to do an intervention on you. Wake up, lad, and take a hard look before you become the laugingstock of more than just the Peng Challenge Thread. Because they are laughing, Bauhaus. You just can't hear them yet over the digitized sounds produced by your little hand-held device. STAND UP, BAUHAUS!

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Tremble, tyrants and you perfidious opprobrium of all the parties,

Tremblez! your parricidal projects finally will receive their prices!

But these sanguinary despots, But these accomplices of Berli,

All these tigers which, without pity, Bauhaus the centre of their mother!

We will enter the career When our elder is not there any more,

We will find there their dust And the trace of their virtues

[This message has been edited by Seanachai (edited 12-27-2000).]

[Seanachai]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Lorak:

The mind of a perfect man is like a mirror. It grasps nothing. It expects nothing. It reflects but does not hold.

Lorak the loathed

"omnipresent authority figure"<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Were it not for the qualifier 'it expects nothing', I would say we had an unusually high percentage of perfect men on the main Board, because a large number of them clearly grasp nothing, and clearly cannot retain anything, as well.

------------------

Tremble, tyrants and you perfidious opprobrium of all the parties,

Tremblez! your parricidal projects finally will receive their prices!

But these sanguinary despots, But these accomplices of Berli,

All these tigers which, without pity, Bauhaus the centre of their mother!

We will enter the career When our elder is not there any more,

We will find there their dust And the trace of their virtues

[OGSF]

Hiram, ye half-filled colostomy bag.....what's this blatherin' aboot needin' a gam? You owe mah a bleedin' turn, ye luke-warm hankey load.

Ye have tae returrn ye files afore ye kin learn new ways tae die.

SirMacOberGruppenBloodyStompinSicFeuhrerBastard

[Berlichtingen]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Bauhaus, my lad, using those hideous playstation machines lowers your intelligence<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Now Seanachai, if you think a bit about this statement, you will see why this does not bother Bauhaus

[jdmorse]

[ed note] The following drivel is a sad reconstruction and mere specter of a formerly great post that, as the leaves of autumn swarm like locusts obscuring all view, I shall attempt to resurrect it after I sober up from imbibing as I watched my unsaved tome and paean disappear in a miasmic swirl of vanishing ROM.

AnnubissonofSetoffspringofHorusandadogfacedboy is beginning to annoy and vex. Travel with me my children to another world, where sight and sound are malleable, where omniniensce prevails (as long as you have LOS) and gentle warriors contest a godforsaken and blasted nether realm. I shall tell a tale of pain and betrayal of devious and cold revenge. Sound and Fury and of a woman bereft.

Picture three TD's out for a lovelrly stroll. Slowly they grind up an incline, the ridge line looming above them, as some malevolent and baleful gate which holds their future, circumspect and aloof, unknown yet pregnantwith possibilities. What lies beyond is only mere speculation. What lies within the heart of man is to be reveald and reviled. Suddenly, out of the periphery of their view, they catch the solitary image of a PSW, desperately trying to make itself crawl under a worm's belly. "Gunner, Target, 90 degrees left. Sabot!" rings out. The tortured squeal of metal, the whine of servos as the ponderous turrets swing toward their intended victim. The surrounding peaks echo the basso profundis reverberation as lumps of metal fly their predestined courses. Only the birds embrace the tortured screams of pain, as hot metal flashes within the metal confines, turning the once proud unit into a caldron of misery. The crew, those who might as well envy the dead, in a supreme effort scramble out, their clothing afire, their eyes blackened pits of despair.

Their tormentors, laugh, slewing their guns, their agents of destruction, and orienting their vehicles to end this vile, loathsome and dirty business. Forgetting, perhaps in the overwhelming pleasures that enrgize their senses, for a brief moment, the ridge. The ridge that heard the pain of it's companions cry out for vengeance. The ridge that in a moment of sentience responds from the depths of despair seeking a champion to recover the bodies of her offspring. In a brief flicker her keening wails are answered by a throbbing guttural roar. The earth itself trembles and knows that the sights of depraved and horrid death shall be extirpated and avenged. As the TD's their sport of denying the crew the solace and comfort they seek, with 30 and 50 cal stinging whips, play at their palsied

and worn pleasure, they fail to note their doom approaching.

Cresting the ridge, with sunlight glinting off helms of pure hate, the trio behold in their last moments of conscious thought, 4 steeds of apocalypse (3 panthers and a Jagdpanther), bearing down, their turrets aligned, barrels depressed, their vengeance clear. In a moment, the brifest of time in the smash of a thunderclap, it is over. The birds, their roost distubed return to the branches where a moment ago they took flight in terror as the final judgment was dispensed. There is silence save for the slight ticking of cooling and congealed metal.

Yet this tale of vengeance and woe is not yet done fair reader, for travel forward and away to another location where 2 panthers, ravenous and hurtful lie await, their hulls flushed, waiting for the moment. Soon, so soon, innocence is to be lost. Over the hill, a small Stuart, her name "anna" gaily shines unaware that each step she takes is followed by the malevolent gaze of evil through the verdant foliage. Jaws agape, saliva begins to pool in anticipation that the pangs of hunger shall soon be slaked.

Anna, blissful and carefree moves forward, unaware, her movement lovenly caressed and consumed by eyes that hold no soul, who plan a decadent assignation, till they, in a paroxysm of release spew upon her the hate and loathing their kind have for hers. In an instant she is no more.The silence violated and ripped with the shriek of agony. Her empty and violated body flies across the ground, it's life is ripped and torn from her. Her shattered remains coast gently, only to bump against the foot pad of her most lewd and lethal assassin. All that remains is the scattered flowers she once carried.

As the life force that was anna stumbles forth, they seek shelter in a nearby copse of stunted trees. Her assailants, pawing and visiting on her hulk such indignities that offend the senses, note the passage of what was once anna, yet fail to see in her eyes the glowing hellfire of revenge unrequited, the passions for vengeance that she carries away. She removes herself to abide, to plot her ultimate triumph on those who violated her and murdered her children. As some modern day Tamora, she plots the fall of her Titus and sends forth her Moor.

There, in the blackness that her callow heart holds, she weaves her revenge and triumph. As her assailants prance and prattle they are attracted by the crew, and seek more pleasure. Forgetting the lesson that their brethren, in an another time and place before meted out righteous death to others, they proceed apace. Taking their sport, they torment anna, yet in forcing them to take cover, hatches closed, she causes them to fail to see the swift approach of her avenger, who as was done to them swiftly dispatches one of her bane. His corpse twitches as metal flashes to incandescence and drains the fluids from his body. Anna, shudders in the orgiastic release, her body caught up in the blood lust that courses through her veins.....

So what gentle reader is the denouement? The finger of fate having writ has moved on...yet we as mortals are not given the gift of prescience, at least until the next file arrives. Until then, be content that injustice is avenged but that death begets death. Thus our little moratility play closes....or does it?

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If frogs had uzi's, snakes woudn't mess with them so much. - Hiram

[This message has been edited by jdmorse (edited 12-27-2000).]

[jdmorse]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Lorak:

The mind of a perfect man is like a mirror. It grasps nothing. It expects nothing. It reflects but does not hold.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

The mind is not a mirrior for where can the dust alight?

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If frogs had uzi's, snakes woudn't mess with them so much. - Hiram

[Bastables]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by OGSF:

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BUDDABUDDABUDDA!! (wheeeee) KABLOOOIE!!!

Bursta Bubbles Has suffered a crushing and humiliating defeat at mah skillfulhand....Ah just need tae see the file back.....

[This message has been edited by OGSF (edited 12-24-2000).]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

The horrid thing is that its all true. *sob*. Now the little scot sod is 1 for 1 with me. Swine, cad, bounder! In the style of Counter strike (fps) I label OGSF a cheat based on the fact that he not only just beat me, He has in own putrid manner crushed me.

[Berlichtingen]

Ok folks, stand by for a retort from Bauhaus. He has just run home for a quickie (PS2, not a woman) and he assures me he will respond shortly.

[Shandorf]

LORAK! My good man...

Please record the follow:

ME: WIN

Seanchai: LOSS (A pathetic AI surrender)

Yes, Seanchai was begging for turns in advance for the computer to auto-surrender him and he finally got his wish.

It think the score was like 80-something to 17... Sigh.... Crushed beneath my boot I would have to say.

Jeff

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[This message has been edited by Shandorf (edited 12-27-2000).]

[Mark IV]

This is a difficult post for me to make. Let me be brief.

In my first-ever tcp/ip game, with Hiram, I have achieved... a draw. With Hiram.

Most of you would think, or at least try to, " A draw... that's not so bad". Even against Hiram.

Sure, it was a stacked historical scenario, starting with my beaten greenies fleeing the Allied juggernaut, straight across open terrain into his Elite MG crews and a sky-full of HE. Yes, most of you would have collapsed helplessly by turn 3 and gone video snowboarding instead. But I have standards, dammit! I guess the rocky road to knighthood taught the lad something after all...

[This message has been edited by Mark IV to more adequately reflect his profound sense of shame.]

[This message has been edited by Mark IV (edited 12-27-2000).]