(no subject)
I was going back over the 20 questions and my memory was aroused. So bringing you
I have spent the larger part of my life devoting myself to never-ending improvement of my first-person shooter skills. It is more than recreation, hobby, nay not even addiction. It is the one thing if, any existed, that I excel at. Having said that.
It all began a fateful day at the home of Justin Williams. I saw it then. Quake paintball. The stunning array of color, the strategy, the flow of the game. It was amazing. Then it came. My big chance to play. I was sitting there in a freezing cold kitchen, but warmed by the spirit of adventure. It was here that I shed the name Marcus, and donned a name that would strike fear into countless gamers, Ace. Though copied, I am the best. After I scored my first kill. I knew then that this was my calling. I would also meet a future Purdue student, who is very fat and not as attractive as me in this game. I would come many times to the Williams home to bask in the glory of Quake and learning of new modifications to this game, TF and mega TF. But, all birds must leave the nest, and I would soon acqure my own computing device to play.
There it was, stolen from Crestview. It would be my pen on the paper of internet gaming. A masterful pentium I 133 mhz. This stalwart faithful instrument would sing sweet symphonies of death upon the world's opponents. But no man is an island. We all yearn for belonging. Thus, the clan was created. I was a young mega TF player then, but a potential was seen by a fat canadian teenager named SparQ. I rose through the ranks of my first clan SoA, later becoming the lead recruiter. The clan soon broke apart, but then the dawn of a shining age of gaming was ushered in. A friend from this clan requested I co-lead his new clan... F.B.I. (Frag Bastards, Inc.)
I enlisted the ade of Mr. Williams in this new creation. Then came a young player, John Sprunger. Little Johnny was quite the novice. His training was rigorous and hilarious at the same time. Literally, running circles around him as he fired back in desperation. He was truely bathed in a fire of torment. His skills would soon advance and he would be the core engineer of the defense of F.B.I. I would soon become master of the air scout. This unarmored class required quick reflexes above all else. Accompanied by Crash, F.B.I. had a punishing offensive attack. It was time to show the world.
It came from a over-confident clan called RASA, or something. They were considered by much of the mega TF community to be the best. Thinking to defeat a young clan seemed like a hilarious night for them. They would be corrected. Ace and Crash generated an unstoppable flag assault. Capturing over and over soon became a chore. Passing each other on the bridge numerous occasion, the flag of RASA rarely stayed in the basement long. Intermission came and RASA was devastated. It seemed natural they would assault FBI with everything they had. HAHAHA NO! They played an all-defensive game. They did not come back fighting, they came back tucking their tail underneath to protect the already battered genetalia that lay beneath. Determined to not allow them shut us out the second round, Crash and Ace fiercly struggled for the flag. As the round came closing to an end Ace managed to bring the flag from the flagroom, but his legs were crippled, he would surely not make it out of the basement. Crash would appear and Ace valiantly took his own life so Crash could advance the flag. Crash would take the flag to the top of the elevator only to be struck down. 30 seconds remained as Ace snatched the flag and made a flying escape to capture. Thus the dignity of FBI was secured, and respect from the community was earned.
This, is the tip of the iceberg.
I have spent the larger part of my life devoting myself to never-ending improvement of my first-person shooter skills. It is more than recreation, hobby, nay not even addiction. It is the one thing if, any existed, that I excel at. Having said that.
It all began a fateful day at the home of Justin Williams. I saw it then. Quake paintball. The stunning array of color, the strategy, the flow of the game. It was amazing. Then it came. My big chance to play. I was sitting there in a freezing cold kitchen, but warmed by the spirit of adventure. It was here that I shed the name Marcus, and donned a name that would strike fear into countless gamers, Ace. Though copied, I am the best. After I scored my first kill. I knew then that this was my calling. I would also meet a future Purdue student, who is very fat and not as attractive as me in this game. I would come many times to the Williams home to bask in the glory of Quake and learning of new modifications to this game, TF and mega TF. But, all birds must leave the nest, and I would soon acqure my own computing device to play.
There it was, stolen from Crestview. It would be my pen on the paper of internet gaming. A masterful pentium I 133 mhz. This stalwart faithful instrument would sing sweet symphonies of death upon the world's opponents. But no man is an island. We all yearn for belonging. Thus, the clan was created. I was a young mega TF player then, but a potential was seen by a fat canadian teenager named SparQ. I rose through the ranks of my first clan SoA, later becoming the lead recruiter. The clan soon broke apart, but then the dawn of a shining age of gaming was ushered in. A friend from this clan requested I co-lead his new clan... F.B.I. (Frag Bastards, Inc.)
I enlisted the ade of Mr. Williams in this new creation. Then came a young player, John Sprunger. Little Johnny was quite the novice. His training was rigorous and hilarious at the same time. Literally, running circles around him as he fired back in desperation. He was truely bathed in a fire of torment. His skills would soon advance and he would be the core engineer of the defense of F.B.I. I would soon become master of the air scout. This unarmored class required quick reflexes above all else. Accompanied by Crash, F.B.I. had a punishing offensive attack. It was time to show the world.
It came from a over-confident clan called RASA, or something. They were considered by much of the mega TF community to be the best. Thinking to defeat a young clan seemed like a hilarious night for them. They would be corrected. Ace and Crash generated an unstoppable flag assault. Capturing over and over soon became a chore. Passing each other on the bridge numerous occasion, the flag of RASA rarely stayed in the basement long. Intermission came and RASA was devastated. It seemed natural they would assault FBI with everything they had. HAHAHA NO! They played an all-defensive game. They did not come back fighting, they came back tucking their tail underneath to protect the already battered genetalia that lay beneath. Determined to not allow them shut us out the second round, Crash and Ace fiercly struggled for the flag. As the round came closing to an end Ace managed to bring the flag from the flagroom, but his legs were crippled, he would surely not make it out of the basement. Crash would appear and Ace valiantly took his own life so Crash could advance the flag. Crash would take the flag to the top of the elevator only to be struck down. 30 seconds remained as Ace snatched the flag and made a flying escape to capture. Thus the dignity of FBI was secured, and respect from the community was earned.
This, is the tip of the iceberg.