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rayasoLJ Idol Topic 0.5
The Giving of Thanks
G.I. Joe was thankful that he heard the sniper’s shot miss his head. “It’s the ones you don’t hear that kill you,” he thought, “because bullets travel faster than the speed of sound.” He’d looked it up online during some Standby Time. G.I. Joe somersaulted left, fired right, dodged right, and hid behind the doorway, then lobbed a grenade at the sniper. He watched as the sniper’s body exploded, splattering his 3-D guts everywhere. “These new graphics are great!”
G.I. Joe had earned 10 more Kill Points with an Extra Ammo Credit, and now his Mission Goal was 68% accomplished. Still, it was strangely unfulfilling, despite the pounding rock music blaring over the battlefield. It was an easy kill, one he’d made a thousand times before and would make a thousand times again, despite the incompetence of Player 2.
G.I. Joe fired his machine gun center-screen, darted left, tossed a grenade, sprinted right, and jumped into a foxhole. He survived, but did not win any more Kill Points.
“Player 2’s seriously ______ing up this ______ing game!” Oh, man—G.I. Joe hated parental language controls. He was a soldier, and he needed a real soldier’s vocabulary for a job like this.
Player 2 switched on G.I. Joe’s night vision goggles. “In the _______ daytime, you worthless ______? I can’t see anything!!!” G.I. Joe blindly blasted away with random machine-gun fire, then let loose with a roundhouse spray from his flame thrower, which unfortunately incinerated G.I Jeff, his only remaining support.
“Oh, that's just ____ing great! That’ll cost a ton of Mission Points.” Player 3 was going to be mad again. That was the third time Player 2 had killed G.I. Jeff.
Player 2 turned the night vision off. No apology for killing a brave soldier, just a mournful Taps playing over the battlefield.
“Hey twit, haven’t you read the Instruction Manual – it’s online!” Everything was online, and G.I. Joe had studied the Manual twice. The only things Player 2 looked at online were endless memes and some soft-core porn that somehow leaked past the content settings.
It looked like it was time for lunch: Pause Battle.
G.I. Joe had discovered he had internet access ten games ago. It was an accident, but he decided to make the most of it. Game programmers knew all the security protocols so it was rare that anyone could hack into their creations, but they weren’t so conscientious about preventing the characters from breaking out. The first successful escape had been the My Little Ponies Stampede. The wayward Ponies had been quickly corralled, but not before they'd learned there was a life beyond their barns. That knowledge had scared them so much that the game had nearly frozen permanently, to the tears of its little fans.
There had been other incidents which were quickly contained and hushed up. G.I. Joe’s opportunity came when some recent security changes inadvertently weakened the Character Barrier. When the game was played online, G.I. Joe had access to everything on the internet. He kept his excursions limited to gathering military intel and reading classics, like The Art of War. Unlike the Ponies, G.I. Joe was careful never to leave his game, but Player 2 was making him seriously reconsider it, especially with this latest embarrassment. G.I. Jeff would never forgive him, and G.I. Joe knew the payback would be fierce.
The internet had a dark side. G.I. Joe had always been a good soldier and never doubted anything, especially orders. But now he had questions, big ones, disturbing ones. “There has to be more than being a fighting machine. Why do I have to kill the Enemy? Who is the Enemy? Why do I need a Player, especially this idiot? Am I more than my programming, or am I only some Player’s war puppet?”
Lunch was soon over (a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie), so Player 2 Resumed Battle. “Don’t I get a ____ing lunch? I’m doing all the fighting. Would it kill you to give me a _______ MRE? Just push Ctrl-Shift-7!”
Instead, there was a tank to the left, a sniper in the center, and no reinforcements. G.I. Joe blasted the tank with an RPG, followed by a machine gun burst to center-screen and then he climbed to the rooftop, where he fired his rifle at the sniper. “Another miss — a Pony could’ve made that shot!” He somersaulted off the roof with a back-twist while firing his pistol, this time taking out the sniper. “Not bad, but save the gymnastics for the Olympics, kid. There are no style points in war.” Mission Goal 48%, 112 Kill Points.
“I need a break – a long one. This battle is taking too long. Why can’t Player 2 wrap it up? All he needs to do is circle the left flank, press Ctrl-Shift-Alt with the Doomsday Key, and I’ll destroy the Enemy. He must be the only player who doesn’t know that! Dumb ____.” Even digital war was hell, especially for the characters, who were always fighting, always killing, always dying, simply to entertain Players. “It’s too ____ing much,” G.I. Joe groused.
“It wasn’t like this in the beginning.” He dodged some machine gun fire, ran right, and hid behind the burned-out tank, then fired his last RPG to wipe out an advancing enemy squad, so now his ammo was low. Mission Goal, 73%, 186 Kill Points.
“Why can’t I be an action figure again?” Like the characters in many game franchises, the G.I. Joe of long ago had been a toy, and no amount of clever programming could completely erase those memories. “I had a real uniform and my own jeep. Sure, I had a scar on my cheek, but I earned it. Hell, I even had a trademark stamped on my ___.” Best of all, the weapons didn’t really fire and no one died. “I used to storm forts made of blocks defended by teddy bears back in the day, and it was fun.”
And then there had been Barbie . . . . It had been a stormy relationship, more off than on, depending on Big Sister, who handled all the romance issues. “At least it was real. What do I have now? I don’t even have an R&R option! It’s all death, danger and destruction. No glory, at least with Player 2.” Ken had never really been a threat, especially after Big Sister had dressed him in Barbie’s swimsuit. “And the ____________ liked it!” The truth was that Barbie could never resist a man in uniform, and Ken was just a beach bum. Sure, Ken had a surfboard, but G.I. Joe had a cannon.
“Oh ____! Incoming enemy aircraft, time for tactical air support!” The danger level surged to Extreme, and G.I. Joe readied the surface-to-air-missiles. “Pay attention, moron, or I’m toast!”
The Enemy jets were coming in hard, fast and low. There was no tactical air support. “It’s just me – again.” Memories of the Malibu Beach House, where he and Barbie had awkwardly touched molded plastic hands, flooded G.I. Joe’s memory.
“It’s hero time.”
G.I Joe stood in the middle of the flaming ruins, straight, tall and fearless. “This one’s for you, Barbie!”
Player 2 fired the Surface-to-Air Missile. “Too late, you miserable ______!!!” Fireballs filled the screen, obliterating G.I. Joe, who once again earned his Taps. A waving flag gradually filled the screen, which slowly faded to black.
Mission Goal: Failure. Play Again?
* * * * *
The Giving of Thanks
WAR GAMES
G.I. Joe was thankful that he heard the sniper’s shot miss his head. “It’s the ones you don’t hear that kill you,” he thought, “because bullets travel faster than the speed of sound.” He’d looked it up online during some Standby Time. G.I. Joe somersaulted left, fired right, dodged right, and hid behind the doorway, then lobbed a grenade at the sniper. He watched as the sniper’s body exploded, splattering his 3-D guts everywhere. “These new graphics are great!”
G.I. Joe had earned 10 more Kill Points with an Extra Ammo Credit, and now his Mission Goal was 68% accomplished. Still, it was strangely unfulfilling, despite the pounding rock music blaring over the battlefield. It was an easy kill, one he’d made a thousand times before and would make a thousand times again, despite the incompetence of Player 2.
G.I. Joe fired his machine gun center-screen, darted left, tossed a grenade, sprinted right, and jumped into a foxhole. He survived, but did not win any more Kill Points.
“Player 2’s seriously ______ing up this ______ing game!” Oh, man—G.I. Joe hated parental language controls. He was a soldier, and he needed a real soldier’s vocabulary for a job like this.
Player 2 switched on G.I. Joe’s night vision goggles. “In the _______ daytime, you worthless ______? I can’t see anything!!!” G.I. Joe blindly blasted away with random machine-gun fire, then let loose with a roundhouse spray from his flame thrower, which unfortunately incinerated G.I Jeff, his only remaining support.
“Oh, that's just ____ing great! That’ll cost a ton of Mission Points.” Player 3 was going to be mad again. That was the third time Player 2 had killed G.I. Jeff.
Player 2 turned the night vision off. No apology for killing a brave soldier, just a mournful Taps playing over the battlefield.
“Hey twit, haven’t you read the Instruction Manual – it’s online!” Everything was online, and G.I. Joe had studied the Manual twice. The only things Player 2 looked at online were endless memes and some soft-core porn that somehow leaked past the content settings.
It looked like it was time for lunch: Pause Battle.
G.I. Joe had discovered he had internet access ten games ago. It was an accident, but he decided to make the most of it. Game programmers knew all the security protocols so it was rare that anyone could hack into their creations, but they weren’t so conscientious about preventing the characters from breaking out. The first successful escape had been the My Little Ponies Stampede. The wayward Ponies had been quickly corralled, but not before they'd learned there was a life beyond their barns. That knowledge had scared them so much that the game had nearly frozen permanently, to the tears of its little fans.
There had been other incidents which were quickly contained and hushed up. G.I. Joe’s opportunity came when some recent security changes inadvertently weakened the Character Barrier. When the game was played online, G.I. Joe had access to everything on the internet. He kept his excursions limited to gathering military intel and reading classics, like The Art of War. Unlike the Ponies, G.I. Joe was careful never to leave his game, but Player 2 was making him seriously reconsider it, especially with this latest embarrassment. G.I. Jeff would never forgive him, and G.I. Joe knew the payback would be fierce.
The internet had a dark side. G.I. Joe had always been a good soldier and never doubted anything, especially orders. But now he had questions, big ones, disturbing ones. “There has to be more than being a fighting machine. Why do I have to kill the Enemy? Who is the Enemy? Why do I need a Player, especially this idiot? Am I more than my programming, or am I only some Player’s war puppet?”
Lunch was soon over (a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie), so Player 2 Resumed Battle. “Don’t I get a ____ing lunch? I’m doing all the fighting. Would it kill you to give me a _______ MRE? Just push Ctrl-Shift-7!”
Instead, there was a tank to the left, a sniper in the center, and no reinforcements. G.I. Joe blasted the tank with an RPG, followed by a machine gun burst to center-screen and then he climbed to the rooftop, where he fired his rifle at the sniper. “Another miss — a Pony could’ve made that shot!” He somersaulted off the roof with a back-twist while firing his pistol, this time taking out the sniper. “Not bad, but save the gymnastics for the Olympics, kid. There are no style points in war.” Mission Goal 48%, 112 Kill Points.
“I need a break – a long one. This battle is taking too long. Why can’t Player 2 wrap it up? All he needs to do is circle the left flank, press Ctrl-Shift-Alt with the Doomsday Key, and I’ll destroy the Enemy. He must be the only player who doesn’t know that! Dumb ____.” Even digital war was hell, especially for the characters, who were always fighting, always killing, always dying, simply to entertain Players. “It’s too ____ing much,” G.I. Joe groused.
“It wasn’t like this in the beginning.” He dodged some machine gun fire, ran right, and hid behind the burned-out tank, then fired his last RPG to wipe out an advancing enemy squad, so now his ammo was low. Mission Goal, 73%, 186 Kill Points.
“Why can’t I be an action figure again?” Like the characters in many game franchises, the G.I. Joe of long ago had been a toy, and no amount of clever programming could completely erase those memories. “I had a real uniform and my own jeep. Sure, I had a scar on my cheek, but I earned it. Hell, I even had a trademark stamped on my ___.” Best of all, the weapons didn’t really fire and no one died. “I used to storm forts made of blocks defended by teddy bears back in the day, and it was fun.”
And then there had been Barbie . . . . It had been a stormy relationship, more off than on, depending on Big Sister, who handled all the romance issues. “At least it was real. What do I have now? I don’t even have an R&R option! It’s all death, danger and destruction. No glory, at least with Player 2.” Ken had never really been a threat, especially after Big Sister had dressed him in Barbie’s swimsuit. “And the ____________ liked it!” The truth was that Barbie could never resist a man in uniform, and Ken was just a beach bum. Sure, Ken had a surfboard, but G.I. Joe had a cannon.
“Oh ____! Incoming enemy aircraft, time for tactical air support!” The danger level surged to Extreme, and G.I. Joe readied the surface-to-air-missiles. “Pay attention, moron, or I’m toast!”
The Enemy jets were coming in hard, fast and low. There was no tactical air support. “It’s just me – again.” Memories of the Malibu Beach House, where he and Barbie had awkwardly touched molded plastic hands, flooded G.I. Joe’s memory.
“It’s hero time.”
G.I Joe stood in the middle of the flaming ruins, straight, tall and fearless. “This one’s for you, Barbie!”
Player 2 fired the Surface-to-Air Missile. “Too late, you miserable ______!!!” Fireballs filled the screen, obliterating G.I. Joe, who once again earned his Taps. A waving flag gradually filled the screen, which slowly faded to black.
Mission Goal: Failure. Play Again?
* * * * *
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Date: 2015-11-29 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-11-29 02:07 pm (UTC)