Post by TC - Back From the Dead... on Feb 29, 2008 16:23:24 GMT -5
Part I
He stood on the rise of a wide, shallow valley, his troops deployed before him in key strategic locations. He knew this land like his home, and his army covered almost half of the valley, both on land and in the air. They all stood at arms, alert and awaiting the arrival of the enemy.
Their commander, resplendent in his regal robes of red and green, scanned the horizon for any sign of the opposition, his trained mind already calculating how he would command his troops in battle. This time, he was sure he had the perfect strategy and that his foe would finally fall before him, their units demolished completely. He looked forward to the battle that was to come with cold anticipation.
And then the opponent appeared, their own command post set on the opposite rise of the valley, and he was sure that the fight was already won; the man he now saw was dressed in robes of finest scarlet silk, chains of gold and silver hanging from his shoulders by the dozen, his raven-black hair whipping in the wind, revealing numerous gold earrings, his tent behind him large and needlessly extravagant. The younger commander observed all of this, and smirked. The fool! He’d probably spent so much gold on his personal appearance and not on his troops’ cohesion, their skills and equipment – his vanity had doomed him to lose.
Taking his eyes off the exaggerated commander, the young man looked back down to the battlefield and saw that, despite his looks, his enemy had wasted no time in deploying his own forces. He made a quick headcount, noted the different units, and mentally corrected his strategies to adapt to the new situation.
His opponent had a horde of Dark Ork Thugs as his frontline offense, and that was fine by him; his own Light Warrior Legion outmatched the creatures in both speed and skill (and looks, he added in afterthought), and would make rancid mincemeat of the abominations in next to no time before pressing onto the rows upon rows of Mancrawlers, who would prove more challenging. Very well, then would be the time to reinforce the many Legion survivors with his Pikemen Cavalry, their spears impaling the lizard-like flesheaters...but what about the seven Obsidian Hawks his enemy had circling the skies? His one, lone Pegasus Archer could not possibly hope to tackle them all, and he had no infantry archers to back it up, and no way or time to send up more airborne units. Scowling, he turned to his Advisor.
“Harnar,” he called, casting a hand to the skies, “what do you suggest?”
“The Hawks, my Lord?” the wizened old goblin squinted into the distance, shielding his piggy eyes from the glaring sunlight with a shaky olive-green hand. “May I remind you that you do have five magik pillars lit...?”
The young lord’s frown softened into a warm smile. “Of course,” he murmured, surprised he’d let the little fact slip by as he turned to face the small stone pillars that lined the entrance to his own, small tent. Each post bore a blue flame that burned fiercely inches above their surfaces, and before them stood a podium on which a dusty, leather-bound tome was perched. He opened this book and leafed gently through its pages. When he reached the spells he knew that could be used to aid units directly, he traced a finger down the list until he found one he approved of. “Mystical Mirror Images should do the trick...my thanks, Harnar.”
“I exist to serve, Lord Tobin,” the tiny goblin whispered solemnly. “If I may...?”
“Go on,” Tobin always found it wise to encourage any help from his advisor; it was what made him such a formidable opponent – many would just ignore their advisors, excusing them as a tool for those new to war, whereas he embraced his goblin’s extensive knowledge at all times. You were never too old, or experienced, to learn something new, such was his belief.
“Well, my Lord, you could cast the spell now, by all means,” Harnar fiddled with his whiskery little beard as he raised himself up onto tiptoes to glance into the tome of magik, “but that would just leave your opponent with ample time to counter it with a spell of his own, most likely a similar spell that would increase the number of his Hawks, bringing the odds back against us. No, my Lord, wait until the last moment, just when it seems like your Pegasus Archer is defeated.”
“I see,” Lord Tobin grinned down at the goblin, and turned back to his troops. Now that the Obsidian Hawks were dealt with, what else did that leave him?
He continued to scan the enemy’s ground troops, and spotted a disturbance in the barren, sandy land to the far-right. He almost laughed out loud; did his foe seriously think he could conceal his Tunnel Offspring, when they moved about so impatiently? He didn’t hesitate to move his group of High Pyromancers further across the field to meet them when battle commenced, their magical flames ready to shrivel the monstrous worms under – or above – the ground to nothing more than twitching husks. Satisfied with that, he looked further out among the sea of darkness and spotted the ghoulish, lip-torn grins of a dozen Horror Eaters, their gangly arms clawing feverishly at the ground as they peered over the heads of the Mancrawlers at his Light Warriors. Since these repulsive creatures thrived off fear, it didn’t take Harnar’s sagely words to have Tobin quickly place a small band of Fearless Barbarians into the melee, with orders to go straight for the hellbeasts before any real damage could be inflicted.
“And that’s about it!” he beamed confidently, making a second quick tally of both sides just to make sure he still held the upper-hand. “Arrogant fool won’t know what hit him – Harnar, send the signal!”
The goblin bowed his head obediently before pointing a crooked finger to the skies. A blaze of golden sparks rocketed from his fingertip, blossoming several hundred feet above their heads. Several seconds later, similar sparks rose from the other side, this time in deepest crimson.
The battle had begun. With a tumultuous roar, both armies charged at one another, the cacophony of blades, fire and magic filling the air.
Confident that all would go according to plan down in the valley, Tobin focused his attention to the aerial battle, and was surprised to see it starting slowly. Instead of focusing on what could very well be seen as the ‘easy prey’ of the lone Pegasus Archer, the Obsidian Hawks, for some absurd reason, had instead taken to diving upon his Light Warrior Legion. As unexpected as this had been, he needn’t be worried, as his Pikemen Cavalry were making a fine display of spearing any Hawks that his Archer didn’t pick-off in mid-air, felling two of the beasts. Finally seeing sense in a change of tactics, the remaining five Obsidian Hawks withdrew back into the skies and rounded upon the Pegasus Archer with raucous cries, encircling the winged-horse and closed in for the kill...
“Now would be a good time, my Lord,” Harnar called over the throng of battle.
“I know,” Tobin turned on his heel, pointing one hand at the tome of magik and another at the first of the five pillars. “I cast Mystical Mirror Images on my Pegasus Archer!”
The pillar’s hovering ball of blue flame glowed intensely for a moment, before extinguishing entirely, and Tobin returned his attention to the sky above the battlefield. His command had come none too soon, either, as his Archer looked close to defeat.
A blue haze, similar in shade to that of the magikal light on the pillars, enshrouded the Pegasus for all but an instant as the spell took hold. It then shimmered, as if about to vanish as, on the outside of the circle of attacking Hawks, four more Pegasus Archers phased into view, instantly focusing their attention – and their arrows – on the gigantic birds of prey, all five of which fell in seconds under their relentless barrage.
Tobin began to feel the warmth of an assured victory...
Then everything froze around him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tobi had waited a few minutes in the game to see if play would resume and, when he was quite sure that his victory had been snatched from him by the greedy jaws of the beast known as Connection, he ripped off his VI Helmet and scoured the room for any signs of his misfortune. He soon found it, scurrying around the room on four little legs.
“Ako! You dumb mutt, stop running around indoors, darn it! You’ve pulled the router out – again! Go hump a tree or something!” he added venomously as he opened the window of his ground-floor bedroom and dumped the Akita puppy out into the back yard.
Slamming it closed, he reconnected the router and turned back to his PC – and let out a groan of dismay.
He didn’t need to get back into the Virtual Immersion Mode to see that, on the monitor, his entire army lay scattered across the battlefield, devastated. He’d only been disconnected for three minutes, and his opponent had taken the opportunity to snatch a victory!
“Stupid dog,” fifteen year-old Tobi growled as he unplugged the VI helmet and turned to his UCT, snatching up the various digitized cards of his slain units. Thankfully, units were never irreversibly dead – not even Nanogames were that desperate for money – but it would still cost him a lot of gold to revive each and every one of them. “Hope you get a splinter, darn it.”
That said, he ejected the disc of the greatest game he had ever played, the MMOWRPG that had taken the world’s gamers by storm and had left every other online experience behind in its dust. He held it carefully in his hands as he popped it back in its case, closing it just as gently, such was his love and devotion...
...for the phenomena that was Battle Maverick.
Glossary
VI: Virtual Immersion, Nanogame' patented virtual reality product, designed especially for the Battle Maverick game. Links to the UT to allow players to deal and work with their units without having to directly interact with their cards.
UT: Unit Tabletop, where cards are placed in relation to their position on the battlefield. Due to their digital strips concealed between two layers of lamenated card, these cards can be constantly updated with information as the different units are upgraded, equipped with new items, die, or gain battle experience through victory or training, often learning new, specialist abilities - all in-game, in real-time.
MMOWRPG: Massively Multiplayer Online Warfare Roleplaying Game, of which Battle Maverick is the first. Players take on the roles of Lords of the Realm, for good or evil, using cards they've purchased to create unique armies with which to battle one another or - mainly during game-wide story-arcs - with enemy NPCs. Players also adventure solo, away from their armies, like other online RPGs, but the majority of Battle Maverick focuses on these epic battles.
He stood on the rise of a wide, shallow valley, his troops deployed before him in key strategic locations. He knew this land like his home, and his army covered almost half of the valley, both on land and in the air. They all stood at arms, alert and awaiting the arrival of the enemy.
Their commander, resplendent in his regal robes of red and green, scanned the horizon for any sign of the opposition, his trained mind already calculating how he would command his troops in battle. This time, he was sure he had the perfect strategy and that his foe would finally fall before him, their units demolished completely. He looked forward to the battle that was to come with cold anticipation.
And then the opponent appeared, their own command post set on the opposite rise of the valley, and he was sure that the fight was already won; the man he now saw was dressed in robes of finest scarlet silk, chains of gold and silver hanging from his shoulders by the dozen, his raven-black hair whipping in the wind, revealing numerous gold earrings, his tent behind him large and needlessly extravagant. The younger commander observed all of this, and smirked. The fool! He’d probably spent so much gold on his personal appearance and not on his troops’ cohesion, their skills and equipment – his vanity had doomed him to lose.
Taking his eyes off the exaggerated commander, the young man looked back down to the battlefield and saw that, despite his looks, his enemy had wasted no time in deploying his own forces. He made a quick headcount, noted the different units, and mentally corrected his strategies to adapt to the new situation.
His opponent had a horde of Dark Ork Thugs as his frontline offense, and that was fine by him; his own Light Warrior Legion outmatched the creatures in both speed and skill (and looks, he added in afterthought), and would make rancid mincemeat of the abominations in next to no time before pressing onto the rows upon rows of Mancrawlers, who would prove more challenging. Very well, then would be the time to reinforce the many Legion survivors with his Pikemen Cavalry, their spears impaling the lizard-like flesheaters...but what about the seven Obsidian Hawks his enemy had circling the skies? His one, lone Pegasus Archer could not possibly hope to tackle them all, and he had no infantry archers to back it up, and no way or time to send up more airborne units. Scowling, he turned to his Advisor.
“Harnar,” he called, casting a hand to the skies, “what do you suggest?”
“The Hawks, my Lord?” the wizened old goblin squinted into the distance, shielding his piggy eyes from the glaring sunlight with a shaky olive-green hand. “May I remind you that you do have five magik pillars lit...?”
The young lord’s frown softened into a warm smile. “Of course,” he murmured, surprised he’d let the little fact slip by as he turned to face the small stone pillars that lined the entrance to his own, small tent. Each post bore a blue flame that burned fiercely inches above their surfaces, and before them stood a podium on which a dusty, leather-bound tome was perched. He opened this book and leafed gently through its pages. When he reached the spells he knew that could be used to aid units directly, he traced a finger down the list until he found one he approved of. “Mystical Mirror Images should do the trick...my thanks, Harnar.”
“I exist to serve, Lord Tobin,” the tiny goblin whispered solemnly. “If I may...?”
“Go on,” Tobin always found it wise to encourage any help from his advisor; it was what made him such a formidable opponent – many would just ignore their advisors, excusing them as a tool for those new to war, whereas he embraced his goblin’s extensive knowledge at all times. You were never too old, or experienced, to learn something new, such was his belief.
“Well, my Lord, you could cast the spell now, by all means,” Harnar fiddled with his whiskery little beard as he raised himself up onto tiptoes to glance into the tome of magik, “but that would just leave your opponent with ample time to counter it with a spell of his own, most likely a similar spell that would increase the number of his Hawks, bringing the odds back against us. No, my Lord, wait until the last moment, just when it seems like your Pegasus Archer is defeated.”
“I see,” Lord Tobin grinned down at the goblin, and turned back to his troops. Now that the Obsidian Hawks were dealt with, what else did that leave him?
He continued to scan the enemy’s ground troops, and spotted a disturbance in the barren, sandy land to the far-right. He almost laughed out loud; did his foe seriously think he could conceal his Tunnel Offspring, when they moved about so impatiently? He didn’t hesitate to move his group of High Pyromancers further across the field to meet them when battle commenced, their magical flames ready to shrivel the monstrous worms under – or above – the ground to nothing more than twitching husks. Satisfied with that, he looked further out among the sea of darkness and spotted the ghoulish, lip-torn grins of a dozen Horror Eaters, their gangly arms clawing feverishly at the ground as they peered over the heads of the Mancrawlers at his Light Warriors. Since these repulsive creatures thrived off fear, it didn’t take Harnar’s sagely words to have Tobin quickly place a small band of Fearless Barbarians into the melee, with orders to go straight for the hellbeasts before any real damage could be inflicted.
“And that’s about it!” he beamed confidently, making a second quick tally of both sides just to make sure he still held the upper-hand. “Arrogant fool won’t know what hit him – Harnar, send the signal!”
The goblin bowed his head obediently before pointing a crooked finger to the skies. A blaze of golden sparks rocketed from his fingertip, blossoming several hundred feet above their heads. Several seconds later, similar sparks rose from the other side, this time in deepest crimson.
The battle had begun. With a tumultuous roar, both armies charged at one another, the cacophony of blades, fire and magic filling the air.
Confident that all would go according to plan down in the valley, Tobin focused his attention to the aerial battle, and was surprised to see it starting slowly. Instead of focusing on what could very well be seen as the ‘easy prey’ of the lone Pegasus Archer, the Obsidian Hawks, for some absurd reason, had instead taken to diving upon his Light Warrior Legion. As unexpected as this had been, he needn’t be worried, as his Pikemen Cavalry were making a fine display of spearing any Hawks that his Archer didn’t pick-off in mid-air, felling two of the beasts. Finally seeing sense in a change of tactics, the remaining five Obsidian Hawks withdrew back into the skies and rounded upon the Pegasus Archer with raucous cries, encircling the winged-horse and closed in for the kill...
“Now would be a good time, my Lord,” Harnar called over the throng of battle.
“I know,” Tobin turned on his heel, pointing one hand at the tome of magik and another at the first of the five pillars. “I cast Mystical Mirror Images on my Pegasus Archer!”
The pillar’s hovering ball of blue flame glowed intensely for a moment, before extinguishing entirely, and Tobin returned his attention to the sky above the battlefield. His command had come none too soon, either, as his Archer looked close to defeat.
A blue haze, similar in shade to that of the magikal light on the pillars, enshrouded the Pegasus for all but an instant as the spell took hold. It then shimmered, as if about to vanish as, on the outside of the circle of attacking Hawks, four more Pegasus Archers phased into view, instantly focusing their attention – and their arrows – on the gigantic birds of prey, all five of which fell in seconds under their relentless barrage.
Tobin began to feel the warmth of an assured victory...
Then everything froze around him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tobi had waited a few minutes in the game to see if play would resume and, when he was quite sure that his victory had been snatched from him by the greedy jaws of the beast known as Connection, he ripped off his VI Helmet and scoured the room for any signs of his misfortune. He soon found it, scurrying around the room on four little legs.
“Ako! You dumb mutt, stop running around indoors, darn it! You’ve pulled the router out – again! Go hump a tree or something!” he added venomously as he opened the window of his ground-floor bedroom and dumped the Akita puppy out into the back yard.
Slamming it closed, he reconnected the router and turned back to his PC – and let out a groan of dismay.
He didn’t need to get back into the Virtual Immersion Mode to see that, on the monitor, his entire army lay scattered across the battlefield, devastated. He’d only been disconnected for three minutes, and his opponent had taken the opportunity to snatch a victory!
“Stupid dog,” fifteen year-old Tobi growled as he unplugged the VI helmet and turned to his UCT, snatching up the various digitized cards of his slain units. Thankfully, units were never irreversibly dead – not even Nanogames were that desperate for money – but it would still cost him a lot of gold to revive each and every one of them. “Hope you get a splinter, darn it.”
That said, he ejected the disc of the greatest game he had ever played, the MMOWRPG that had taken the world’s gamers by storm and had left every other online experience behind in its dust. He held it carefully in his hands as he popped it back in its case, closing it just as gently, such was his love and devotion...
...for the phenomena that was Battle Maverick.
Glossary
VI: Virtual Immersion, Nanogame' patented virtual reality product, designed especially for the Battle Maverick game. Links to the UT to allow players to deal and work with their units without having to directly interact with their cards.
UT: Unit Tabletop, where cards are placed in relation to their position on the battlefield. Due to their digital strips concealed between two layers of lamenated card, these cards can be constantly updated with information as the different units are upgraded, equipped with new items, die, or gain battle experience through victory or training, often learning new, specialist abilities - all in-game, in real-time.
MMOWRPG: Massively Multiplayer Online Warfare Roleplaying Game, of which Battle Maverick is the first. Players take on the roles of Lords of the Realm, for good or evil, using cards they've purchased to create unique armies with which to battle one another or - mainly during game-wide story-arcs - with enemy NPCs. Players also adventure solo, away from their armies, like other online RPGs, but the majority of Battle Maverick focuses on these epic battles.
