"Anyone who can take 600+ casualties and win is a 100% pure, homogenized, accept-no-substitutes Grade A bad-ass."
-Ash
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| Micro and Macro have some fun. | | | Author: | | | IP: | XXXX | | Date: | 08/10/99 04:08 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | Starcraft(1), Problem: Broken Images(1) | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 3, Max: 9, Min: 8
Lifetime Rating for Slicer: 6.7333 |   |
Note: This is the opposite of my last report and is excessively lengthy and convoluted. Fans of Cattlebruiser will enjoy this one.
Once more, I am excessively bored. The writing of novels becomes tedious; the lag and spam of Quake grows annoying. The repetitiveness of Postal and the technological inferiority of Duke all push me away.
Once more, the call of Starcraft beckons me closer to its icy grasp. Zealots sing melodies and Zerglings hide in darkness, waiting to feast upon another walking meal, waiting to crush all who dare oppose the Swarm.
Once more, I listen.
I give up on making games for once and join a 2v2 Rivalry game. But this is not the map of play. The host, Diels, cannot accumulate enough players. We go to his channel - incidentally named "diels" - and chat for a bit. Then I make a Mausoleum game. Quickly do we make zealots - quickly does our Zerg opponent fall and our Protoss opponent leave, creating a battle not worth reporting. Quicker still do I invoke another game on the same map, hoping that this time the opponents would be able to withstand a very early double rush.
The irony is that these opponents, we quickly learn, cannot. Like the first game, Diels and I are both Protoss. We build early gateways, and make early sealots once more. However, as the opponents say "no rush" and appear to be taking a more defensive posture, Diels and I agree that a lengthier and more fun game should be played this time around.
My Corsair quickly discovers that the southern opponent is a Terran specializing in bunkers, missile turrets, and Tanks; a form of defense also known as "turtling". Diels' Observer discovers that the western enemy is a Protoss. Said Protoss also has two pylons out far in front of his base, in preparation for Cannon defense. Diels and I share a chuckle.
I colonize my local expansion and assist Diels with the location of his. As Brown inadequately defended his main base against drops, Diels takes advantage and some Scarab-loaded Reavers come and say hello, and to prepare to die. The Probes reply insults in their native language, and violence quickly erupts. The victorious Reavers are never prosecuted for their hate crimes, and ride away in a specially-made Shuttle with a Confederate flag (said flag ripped off a destroyed Terran base before Mengsk came to power) hanging off of it.
I accumulate more Corsairs and DTs. I never make a High Templar, opting instead to go with the power of the cloaked warriors and their Dark Archon counterparts. Their ability-granting upgrades are researched, along with shields to protect the weaponless ones.
An attack is launched against my person by the treacherous Terran. His attack fails after five Zealots and two Dragoons I put in front of my encampment do battle with the invaders - as he is utilizing Medics with his marines, my small force is unable to defeat them and his two attacking Tanks. However, my partner has a sizable force of Dragoons and Zealots that eviscerates the evil enemy with enormous ease. I expand to the elevated expansion east of the entrenched enemy encampment.
One of my Corsairs takes notice that the Terran and the Protoss have set up a combined defense in the southern region utilizing Photon Cannons and Siege Tanks. My Corsair gets injured by Marines before it learns the truth - that the yellow Terran is attempting to expand to his natural! Horror of horrors! This cannot pass! That corsair, and one other like it, perish in Disruption Webbing the cannon portion of the combined defense. May they live in peace with Adun forever. Another Corsair webs another cannon and lives to tell the tale.
Diels attacks with zealous Zealots and Dragoons and I send my Dark Archons to do what they can. I manage to Mind Control a sieged Tank before my ally's Zealots destroy it - likewise, much to my partner's benefit, I do the same with a Medic. After all the enemy forces at the southern natural are defeated, my lusty yet dutiful Medic heals all the Zealots she can, negating all their damage and royally pissing the opponents off, although the opponents give no sign to the veracity of that.
My partner, seeing as how his five Gateways are teleporting so many bloodlusted units from Aiur that it doesn't matter what happens to a few, decides to send all his units into the enemy Terran base with one simple command: ATTACK! This is one of the rare Protoss Swarms, a very rare sight in games between good players; however, when the game is between good players and morons, they can be found to be rather common.
I, however, feel for his units and utilize my Corsairs for the benefit of my ally, incapacitating two bunkers and a Tank. Few of my ally's units perish in that battle. The base is razed to the surface of the dark planet with very little fuss. The Terran commander, seeing as how his poorly-trained Marines are quickly becoming Reaver, Dragoon, and Zealot fodder, chooses to take an escape pod and rapidly leaves the battlefield. His Protoss comrade sticks around, a mere pig on the spit, turning around and around beneath our forces' fire. He has no expansions.
We amass and begin to add wood and gasoline to that fire. My partner has an obscene amount of heavily upgraded Dragoons. I have five charging Dark Archons. I move one at a time forward, subtracting from the opposing force of Dragoons. Amusingly enough, the opponent moves forward with his Dragoons past his Photon-based defense, attacking my Dark Archon and only my Dark Archon. It appears the enemy commander has chosen to drink Shakuran ale instead of practice battle strategy. My ally's dragoons laugh in their robotized voices and smash their offending likenesses into a gooey blue soup not unlike ink-covered gruel. I move another Dark Archon forward and the process is repeated. As I do it again, he elects to try something slightly different and attacks the Dark Templar-spawned being with his Zealots. which have not recieved any speed aid. My opponent need not fear that the zealots may attack his Dragoons when they reach them, for I elect to Maelstrom the brutes and their brown armor is encapsulated in brown waves of paralysis, complementing their natural color excellently. Madonna would be proud. Disruption bolts send them to the same place some of my Corsairs went earlier in this war.
I needlessly use my remaining Sairs to disrupt the enemy Cannons. Dragoon after teal Dragoon pummels its way through the enemy forces, blasting every brown object it sees. Two teal Reavers aid in this fight as well.
Diels' Dragoons do not stop. Their embedded Protoss warrior spirits shout for joy with every zing of antiparticle bolts. The enemy Protoss can only pray as the massive robotic warriors spam their way through his base. Diels, realizing that the brown foe is gaining minerals during this slaughter, sends his Arbiter to use a field of Stasis on the probes, catching all but one in a shiny, blue, regular, three-dimensional shape, as if in insult.
The ending, due to such power, is mercifully brief. The fire is of sufficient heat and the pig is roasted to a golden brown, much like the color of the destroyed base. Brown's Assimilator is the last building to leave the premises.
I take a moment to gloat as the enemy is eliminated, and both he and my ally leave the premises. Because I already know, approximately, how the final tally of actions taken will appear, I decide to forgo the viewing of the score and go back to the channel. Alas, the disgusting pile of canine excrement that is Battle.net disallows my partner fron returning with me. I sigh, shrug, and choose to write a report about yet another glorious victory. |
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