Judicator Hephaest glared at his compatriot.
"You had best use more subtle means with your Executor."
Judicator Salarus replied only with stoic silence.
"Aiur's hopes rest upon your shoulders, you have to rein him in before his willful defiance jeopardizes the expedition. Blunt manipulation of the Khala will not be enough."
Again Salarus was silent, deep behind his psychological fortress he was aware of Hephaest's true motivations. Both Hephaest and Salarus were aligned with the progressive Auriga faction, the difference between them was that Salarus would not be returning to Aiur if unsuccessful whereas Hephaest would endure a lifetime of shame and dishonor.
Salarus broke the silence, "I am well aware of what is at stake. My Executor will learn his place soon enough."
"I also notice that you have delayed the warp jump..."
Salarus replied, "Yes it is set for 8 hours and we will make the last 30 minutes in real time."
Hephaest smiled, "I know what you are doing, Judicator... Do you think it will work?"
"Nothing is so pleasant as awakening slowly to the Khala. I will catch Executor Aeolus with honey*."
Executor Aeolus awoke to a honeyed whisper. His thoughts were slow at first as he tried to discern the speaker. He couldn't. He fell back asleep to the lullaby.
And awoke minutes later, this time the whisper was a chorus. It was gospel music, not sung by one but by millions of billions. The distance had muffled the voice but it was clear enough that his sleepy head knew the source.
Aiur... The Homeworld. His home. Where he grew up. A planet where everyone was empathically linked via the Khala, much like in the ship but on an incomprehensible scale. The emotions flowed in symphonic resonance, the Judicator Caste were the conductors, but all he could hear were the musicians. He surrendered to it and found himself swimming in it.
He completely forgot about yesterday's anger at the Judicator Caste for their manipulative ways. He was Home.
20 minutes later he stopped laughing and composed himself. Judicator Salarus was nearby, he felt him. No doubt Salarus was here to tell him the Ship had landed. He already knew. He felt it. The choir had been growing louder with their approach and now he knew that he was no longer a listener but just another choirboy.
"Executor, your Graduation Ceremony starts in... well it is starting now. I did not want to disturb your meditation but our Patriarch has almost finished his speech. All of Aiur is waiting for you."
The Executor nodded and approached his wardrobe.
"Oh yes, I had our armourer synthesise something more appropriate for the occasion," Salarus advised as he politely left the room.
The armour with it's gilded golden lustre was nowhere near as boastingly decorative as the ceremony. Salarus had even landed the ship behind the stage, so that the crowd could watch as they disembarked.
Executor Aeolus walked nervously on stage. Behind him to his left were the Patriarchs of the tribes of the Templar Caste, grizzled ancient paternal warriors and masters of war. Behind and to his right were Judicators of the Conclave, their faces expressionless and their age disguised as wisdom. All of them, he knew, could break his very mind in a millisecond with sheer psionic power.
Aeolus was beginning to feel impotent in the midst of these powerful figures until he saw the Patriarch who was at the podium. The Master of Ceremonies for this event was none other than his tribal Patriarch. The Patriarch of the Auriga Tribe, encrusted in emerald green armour with decorative golden spikes. He served as an anchor point in the Khala. As the Master of Ceremonies finished up his speech he glanced at Aeolus. Aeolus's nervousness disappeared as he could almost feel the Patriarch psionically shove confidence into his head.
".... Executor Aeolus"
Suddenly he realised that the Master of Ceremonies HAD finished his speech.
"Don't worry you don't have to say anything, just smile and wave to the crowd," Salarus consoled him telepathically.
And so he did. He was enthralled in the moment. But then a troubled thought raised it's head and whisked him away from the giddying Khala the crowd emanated. Every time he had seen the Aurigan Patriarch in the past he always wore the same piece of jewelry. Always. But not today it seemed. Despite all of his attempts to look handsome in his emerald-green armour, the MC was missing his Khaydarin Amulet...
*Protoss don't have honey, but the transdermal extract of Hastati Beetles could only be described "as sweet as honey", which is the literal translation of the Judicator's words
Showing posts with label Starcraft 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Starcraft 2. Show all posts
Monday, 5 December 2011
Thursday, 10 November 2011
Storytime Again!
So here I am, it's 1:30 am, I have work in another six and a half hours and another half an hour until my copy of skyrim has finished downloading. I could sleep, but you and I both know that's not what's going to happen. Thankfully, I think I can function at work on muscle memory alone, but in the meantime I have half an hour to kill and what better way to squander it than with a bit of creative writing?
Flying Colours
He was tired. So very tired but in some ways that helped. The harsh training lesson was muted and he found his body and mind settling into a subconcious rhythm that his lessons had entrained into him. His mind reached out without effort. He felt the ship, it's sanguine hull bristling with psionic energy nestling in the safe coccoon that was it's powerful plasma shields. A solitary home and fortress in the void of space.
It was deliberate, he was to have no distractions until graduation. Hence why the ship's crew was skeletal in number, but he felt them nevertheless; the Khalai Protoss, the ship's technicians, their minds pulsating like a heartbeat.
Their feelings were transparent; unlike the two others who were in the simulation room. They were... enigmas, their minds did not seem impenetrable at first but his training had been very effective. Their minds were... layered. The outside was transparent, but they had a hidden wall separating the rest of their psyche.
Before he could dwell on it though, his thoughts were again interrupted by those ancient sapphire eyes gazing at him. He knew the Judicator could read his mind... and not just read it. He never used to feel uncomfortable about that fact, so why should it bother him now?
He spoke so as to banish his discomfort, "Judicator, you never told me you had such strategic prowess. Those last few simulated campaigns were... exceptionally challenging."
"Executor Aeolus, it was never my intention to push you to such limits. Truth be told, I find it... unethical," mirrored the Judicator, emphasizing his distaste at the word "unethical".
The Judicator continued but with a tone of pride, "A particular member of the Conclave took an interest in your training. I was reluctant, but Judicator Hephaest was insistent. He set up the last 2 campaigns for you and assumed the role of your opposing general."
On cue, the staunch Judicator Hephaest stood up to speak.
"When the Conclave selected you to be raised as an Executor of the Fleet they knew you were the best candidate to prioritize the survival of the military and civilian assets when completing objectives. However they felt there was a slight danger of you... "overdoing" it."
Hephaest continued, "After testing you myself, however, I am inclined to believe that their concerns are invalid."
Hephaest then completely dropped the rest of his formalities with a lighthearted smile.
"Aeolus, you will be one of the best Executors we have ever been blessed with."
The Judicators let that last statement sink in for a moment before Hephaest let the other Judicator speak.
"We can see you are weary. Get some rest, young Templar and tomorrow we shall return to Auir for your formal graduation and immediate assignment."
The Judicators left him alone.
Aeolus lay on his bed. He was still tired but something niggled in the back of his head. The Judicators of the Conclave were always religious and political heroes. They were infallible, holy, they knew what was right and wrong and selflessly devoted themselves to making sure that everyone was on the Right path. Under the guidance of the Conclave, the people were one with one another; one gigantic happy empathically linked being.
Tonight though, he had discovered they had a hidden layer. He never knew that, never felt it there before, but then again never before in his life had he felt the ship. The Judicators had always preached the divinity of sharing your mind and all it's secrets with your brothers and sisters of the Khala, but the truth is they weren't actually practicing what they preached. And worse, they hid that little hypocrisy as a secret in itself.
This was a result of the training... he knew it. And Aeolus knew that those two Judicators already knew his little revelation...
Flying Colours
He was tired. So very tired but in some ways that helped. The harsh training lesson was muted and he found his body and mind settling into a subconcious rhythm that his lessons had entrained into him. His mind reached out without effort. He felt the ship, it's sanguine hull bristling with psionic energy nestling in the safe coccoon that was it's powerful plasma shields. A solitary home and fortress in the void of space.
It was deliberate, he was to have no distractions until graduation. Hence why the ship's crew was skeletal in number, but he felt them nevertheless; the Khalai Protoss, the ship's technicians, their minds pulsating like a heartbeat.
Their feelings were transparent; unlike the two others who were in the simulation room. They were... enigmas, their minds did not seem impenetrable at first but his training had been very effective. Their minds were... layered. The outside was transparent, but they had a hidden wall separating the rest of their psyche.
Before he could dwell on it though, his thoughts were again interrupted by those ancient sapphire eyes gazing at him. He knew the Judicator could read his mind... and not just read it. He never used to feel uncomfortable about that fact, so why should it bother him now?
He spoke so as to banish his discomfort, "Judicator, you never told me you had such strategic prowess. Those last few simulated campaigns were... exceptionally challenging."
"Executor Aeolus, it was never my intention to push you to such limits. Truth be told, I find it... unethical," mirrored the Judicator, emphasizing his distaste at the word "unethical".
The Judicator continued but with a tone of pride, "A particular member of the Conclave took an interest in your training. I was reluctant, but Judicator Hephaest was insistent. He set up the last 2 campaigns for you and assumed the role of your opposing general."
On cue, the staunch Judicator Hephaest stood up to speak.
"When the Conclave selected you to be raised as an Executor of the Fleet they knew you were the best candidate to prioritize the survival of the military and civilian assets when completing objectives. However they felt there was a slight danger of you... "overdoing" it."
Hephaest continued, "After testing you myself, however, I am inclined to believe that their concerns are invalid."
Hephaest then completely dropped the rest of his formalities with a lighthearted smile.
"Aeolus, you will be one of the best Executors we have ever been blessed with."
The Judicators let that last statement sink in for a moment before Hephaest let the other Judicator speak.
"We can see you are weary. Get some rest, young Templar and tomorrow we shall return to Auir for your formal graduation and immediate assignment."
The Judicators left him alone.
Aeolus lay on his bed. He was still tired but something niggled in the back of his head. The Judicators of the Conclave were always religious and political heroes. They were infallible, holy, they knew what was right and wrong and selflessly devoted themselves to making sure that everyone was on the Right path. Under the guidance of the Conclave, the people were one with one another; one gigantic happy empathically linked being.
Tonight though, he had discovered they had a hidden layer. He never knew that, never felt it there before, but then again never before in his life had he felt the ship. The Judicators had always preached the divinity of sharing your mind and all it's secrets with your brothers and sisters of the Khala, but the truth is they weren't actually practicing what they preached. And worse, they hid that little hypocrisy as a secret in itself.
This was a result of the training... he knew it. And Aeolus knew that those two Judicators already knew his little revelation...
Monday, 7 November 2011
Story Time!
I've been wanting to do this post or a week now, but work and procrastination has continually obstructed any attempt. That's ok, I'm doing it now so that makes it all better, I hope. Unfortunately this short story is going to be of the dreadfully common sci fi genre. I'm pretty sure every teenager went through that phase where they wrote a 214 000 word scifi/fantasy novelette. Fortunately for me, the floppy I used to store the story on became corrupted as did my dream of ever becoming a writer (well apart from the fact that my father seemed to think that "writer" and "homosexual" shared the same definition in the dictionary).
On the plus side though, I have learnt a thing or two since high school even though I haven't written anything but laboratory reports and technically inclined essays since. And that little nifty tool is to write about emotional responses instead of just a linear course of actions by two dimensional characters. And so without any further adieu, allow me to introduce you to the gman's first online short story...
Final Results
death, retreat, kill them all, gushing..blood, severed...heads, Victory
..and then a commanding voice as if shouted across galaxies: THAT WILL DO
He opened his eyes slowly. It was as if sandbags were weighing them down. His dream was still real in his head and playing across his mind haphazardly like a film reel with coffee stains blurring out every second frame. 8 hours... He couldn't remember all of it, nobody in their right sane mind could. But he definitely remembered the recurring themes throughout.
The deaths... billions of living beings slaughtered by his order. You can't empathise with that, and you cannot mourn for millions... sooner or later they all become a statistic and the only death you can empathise with is the death of your own compassion.
The retreats...Sometimes you had no choice but to flee. Strategically it sometimes made the best sense, but try convincing your comrades that. Every retreat he partook he had to fight the rising tsunami of hopelessness and humiliation that became pandemic across the ranks. It was infectious and the general had no immunity to the plague.
"Kill them all," a phrase uttered so callously by himself so many times. When it wasn't him but the enemy doing the retreating he would scheme to turn the retreat into a rout. Masochism would turn to sadism as he avenged his own emotions and projected them on others. Viciously his heart aligned with his mind, for it always made good sense to hunt down the enemy when they are out of position and often times out of hope. Always, his men an extension of himself, echoed his insatiable bloodlust.
And the gushing blood... he was no stranger to the battlefield. Sometimes it wasn't even red; without oxygen blood is blue and when there is no red blood cells left flowing in your blood then it doesn't even take a color. You still know what it is, though, the lifeforce leaking out of the body.
Severed heads kept cropping up time and time again. Why tribal and warrior cultures seemed to take pride in putting heads on sticks, he did not know. But it enraged him and helped turn those millions of casualties on both sides into something... justifiable.
And finally the words victory and defeat were engraved inside his skull. Nobody ever had uttered those words. It was either his advisors informing him the "opposition had been killed with no survivors" or "we have captured the enemy general" or something along those lines. And every now and then, he slipped up and would pay for his strategical and tactical errors and would find a blade at his throat or a projectile weapon aimed at his heart and in a flash he was somewhere else commanding his men again in a new battle.
He had forgotten how many times he had died. In some ways he woke up being numb to the concept. He was afraid of death now though. Once upon a time he wasn't. He was a young zealot like the men he commanded in his dreams, it was sweet and fitting to die for your people. But now... it just scared him... just. scared. him.
He shut it out of his mind, with the rest of his dream and anchored himself back in reality; his eyes trying to convince him of what his mind could not. His surroundings were sterile, metallic and emotionally neutral. It didn't help, but then his eyes suddenly met those of his tormentor. The man responsible for the lucid dreams.
He lost himself in those ancient sapphire eyes and felt waves of admiration and pride gush over him in torrents. He was lost at sea.
"Congratulations"
The commanding compliment felt like a punch to the head. It didn't hurt though, it just put his emotions into a coma while his brain caught up.
"Your training is complete, Executor"
On the plus side though, I have learnt a thing or two since high school even though I haven't written anything but laboratory reports and technically inclined essays since. And that little nifty tool is to write about emotional responses instead of just a linear course of actions by two dimensional characters. And so without any further adieu, allow me to introduce you to the gman's first online short story...
Final Results
death, retreat, kill them all, gushing..blood, severed...heads, Victory
..and then a commanding voice as if shouted across galaxies: THAT WILL DO
He opened his eyes slowly. It was as if sandbags were weighing them down. His dream was still real in his head and playing across his mind haphazardly like a film reel with coffee stains blurring out every second frame. 8 hours... He couldn't remember all of it, nobody in their right sane mind could. But he definitely remembered the recurring themes throughout.
The deaths... billions of living beings slaughtered by his order. You can't empathise with that, and you cannot mourn for millions... sooner or later they all become a statistic and the only death you can empathise with is the death of your own compassion.
The retreats...Sometimes you had no choice but to flee. Strategically it sometimes made the best sense, but try convincing your comrades that. Every retreat he partook he had to fight the rising tsunami of hopelessness and humiliation that became pandemic across the ranks. It was infectious and the general had no immunity to the plague.
"Kill them all," a phrase uttered so callously by himself so many times. When it wasn't him but the enemy doing the retreating he would scheme to turn the retreat into a rout. Masochism would turn to sadism as he avenged his own emotions and projected them on others. Viciously his heart aligned with his mind, for it always made good sense to hunt down the enemy when they are out of position and often times out of hope. Always, his men an extension of himself, echoed his insatiable bloodlust.
And the gushing blood... he was no stranger to the battlefield. Sometimes it wasn't even red; without oxygen blood is blue and when there is no red blood cells left flowing in your blood then it doesn't even take a color. You still know what it is, though, the lifeforce leaking out of the body.
Severed heads kept cropping up time and time again. Why tribal and warrior cultures seemed to take pride in putting heads on sticks, he did not know. But it enraged him and helped turn those millions of casualties on both sides into something... justifiable.
And finally the words victory and defeat were engraved inside his skull. Nobody ever had uttered those words. It was either his advisors informing him the "opposition had been killed with no survivors" or "we have captured the enemy general" or something along those lines. And every now and then, he slipped up and would pay for his strategical and tactical errors and would find a blade at his throat or a projectile weapon aimed at his heart and in a flash he was somewhere else commanding his men again in a new battle.
He had forgotten how many times he had died. In some ways he woke up being numb to the concept. He was afraid of death now though. Once upon a time he wasn't. He was a young zealot like the men he commanded in his dreams, it was sweet and fitting to die for your people. But now... it just scared him... just. scared. him.
He shut it out of his mind, with the rest of his dream and anchored himself back in reality; his eyes trying to convince him of what his mind could not. His surroundings were sterile, metallic and emotionally neutral. It didn't help, but then his eyes suddenly met those of his tormentor. The man responsible for the lucid dreams.
He lost himself in those ancient sapphire eyes and felt waves of admiration and pride gush over him in torrents. He was lost at sea.
"Congratulations"
The commanding compliment felt like a punch to the head. It didn't hurt though, it just put his emotions into a coma while his brain caught up.
"Your training is complete, Executor"
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
It's easier to write off-topic stuff than to research and write a good article on current affairs
Not that I would, given how mundane the headlines are of late. The headlines today are the same ones we had a few weeks ago. Greece is still begging for money, the US economy is still screwed and in my own country both the Prime Minister and Opposition leader don't seem to care about human rights violations performed by the federal government as long as it's not technically on our soil.
So I think next post I'll revert to my favourite topic of choice: War/History
In the meantime I'll go back to my off-topic rambling because I love talking about off-topic stuff. Particularly starcraft. I'm beginning to think even changing the blog's title and topic to sc2. At least I would post more than weekly.
See while I have been busy with life I did have the opportunity to do some laddering on the weekend before I went to barcraft.
I watched the grand finals of the dreamhack valencia invitational (a starcraft tournament hosted in europe) and then promptly played a ladder game.
It seemed like just another ordinary PvZ (that's Protoss vs Zerg, not Plants vs Zombies, which I suck at). I did an economic 2gate zealot rush and expanded behind it and then sealed the deal with 2base chargelot archon with double attack upgrades. For all you non sc2 nerds still reading this, this is like feigning a punch to the head and when your opponent raises their hands to protect their face, you kick them in the "nuts" instead.
When I was brutally raping the poor zergy, the victory felt mundane. This was a strategy I had long since perfected and used countless times to great effect. But then as the victory screen appeared I caught a glint of CGI mock-reflection amongst a metallic grey pop up.
I couldn't believe it. Was this really happening?
I was in such shock I barely ready the little pop up. But I did catch one word.
Just one.
"Promoted"
And that set my mood for the rest of the day. A few hours later I went to my first barcraft; you go to a bar, watch starcraft tournaments and drink and talk with other nerds. I was the life of the party there and possibly the only sc2 nerd there who binge drinked his way through the sea bnet invitational and the subsequent gomtv vods that played on the screen.
The games themselves were depressing and predictable; my favourite sc2 heroes were losing matches. The people there though were fascinating. In particular the races and the personalities of the barcrafters there.
There was a terran, who I would have expected to be as loud as siege tank fire, but instead was as quiet as a ghost.
There was a zerg by the screen name of "Ripper" who just seemed like a good person to be around. He was cheerful and friendly, tactful and had good personal hygiene. Certainly not someone you would expect to command an army of slime covered bugs.
And then there were the Protoss players. In the game of starcraft, Protoss is a race of technologically advanced aliens with a zealous code of honor. In real life, the pro-tossers were uptight elitists. Just talking to them was such a hilarious experience for me. (for any tossers reading this, I <3 you)
In the end I managed to stumble home with an unknown double digit number of drinks burdening my gait and made it to my bed safely.
But that last Sunday has got to be one of the best days of my life.
So I think next post I'll revert to my favourite topic of choice: War/History
In the meantime I'll go back to my off-topic rambling because I love talking about off-topic stuff. Particularly starcraft. I'm beginning to think even changing the blog's title and topic to sc2. At least I would post more than weekly.
See while I have been busy with life I did have the opportunity to do some laddering on the weekend before I went to barcraft.
I watched the grand finals of the dreamhack valencia invitational (a starcraft tournament hosted in europe) and then promptly played a ladder game.
It seemed like just another ordinary PvZ (that's Protoss vs Zerg, not Plants vs Zombies, which I suck at). I did an economic 2gate zealot rush and expanded behind it and then sealed the deal with 2base chargelot archon with double attack upgrades. For all you non sc2 nerds still reading this, this is like feigning a punch to the head and when your opponent raises their hands to protect their face, you kick them in the "nuts" instead.
When I was brutally raping the poor zergy, the victory felt mundane. This was a strategy I had long since perfected and used countless times to great effect. But then as the victory screen appeared I caught a glint of CGI mock-reflection amongst a metallic grey pop up.
I couldn't believe it. Was this really happening?
I was in such shock I barely ready the little pop up. But I did catch one word.
Just one.
"Promoted"
And that set my mood for the rest of the day. A few hours later I went to my first barcraft; you go to a bar, watch starcraft tournaments and drink and talk with other nerds. I was the life of the party there and possibly the only sc2 nerd there who binge drinked his way through the sea bnet invitational and the subsequent gomtv vods that played on the screen.
The games themselves were depressing and predictable; my favourite sc2 heroes were losing matches. The people there though were fascinating. In particular the races and the personalities of the barcrafters there.
 |
| My Poor Protoss heroes aren't doing well at the big tournaments of late :'( |
There was a terran, who I would have expected to be as loud as siege tank fire, but instead was as quiet as a ghost.
There was a zerg by the screen name of "Ripper" who just seemed like a good person to be around. He was cheerful and friendly, tactful and had good personal hygiene. Certainly not someone you would expect to command an army of slime covered bugs.
And then there were the Protoss players. In the game of starcraft, Protoss is a race of technologically advanced aliens with a zealous code of honor. In real life, the pro-tossers were uptight elitists. Just talking to them was such a hilarious experience for me. (for any tossers reading this, I <3 you)
In the end I managed to stumble home with an unknown double digit number of drinks burdening my gait and made it to my bed safely.
But that last Sunday has got to be one of the best days of my life.
Monday, 8 August 2011
This post is off-topic because I am lazy and apathetic.
Just like the other 99% of the human race I guess.
Actually I will give one insightful comment on political affairs: "All you rioters in London need to calm the fuck down". There I said it. I'm all for ochlochratic uprisings but not when it's just an excuse to go looting. Go play play an mmorpg if you want to go looting.
Speaking of games, heres the games I have been playing of late:
Civilization 5. A highly entertaining game for me, if a little bit time consuming. My only complaint is that after turn 1000 on the biggest map size on marathon speed, it gets a bit laggy on my computer. I recently one a game as ghandhi via diplomatic victory, rather fitting really. Nevermind the ~300 cities I razed to the ground to make room for my infinite city sprawl cities that fed the economy I needed to bribe the city states to vote for me.
Empire Total War - which I would rate higher than civ5 just simply because of the epic infantry and artillery battles you can have. Unfortunately it lags out on desktop after a while too. I recently almost won a game as Russia but then just before I invaded the Mahratta confederacy unleashed its Indian computer hax and my game kept freezing at the exact same turn I my armies were poised to descend from the recently conquered persian provinces. I just needed one more territory to win.
Incidentally Russa is a bear if you can industrialise it. I had as many universities as fingers pumping out that tech and couldnt spend all my money if I tried. Rebellion was a constant problem though, so I had to have a revolution. Rather tragic really, I much preferred the Tsarist Russian flag over the republic version.
And of course Starcraft 2. My favourite game. Only thing that makes me sad is the fact that I'm still a puny gold scrub after all this time. I swear the ladder is evolving. Every time I get better, in macro, micro or strategy, all the other goldies get better too. It makes me sad. If only more casual gamers played sc2, then they could fill up bronze, silver and gold leagues and I could actually get promoted.
Still, it's an epic game. The ultimate battle of wits and mental faculty... and fast hands (ironically the same skills necessary to keep one's girlfriend happy).
Finally, on the entertainment indulgement list is a tv series. Last week, in between sleeping, eating and pretending to do stuff I finally gave the Game of Thrones a shot. I enjoyed it. If you have seen it then I heartily encourage you to play the game of thrones rpg too. Here's the link:
http://www.collegehumor.com/video/6579356/game-of-thrones-rpg
Actually I will give one insightful comment on political affairs: "All you rioters in London need to calm the fuck down". There I said it. I'm all for ochlochratic uprisings but not when it's just an excuse to go looting. Go play play an mmorpg if you want to go looting.
Speaking of games, heres the games I have been playing of late:
Civilization 5. A highly entertaining game for me, if a little bit time consuming. My only complaint is that after turn 1000 on the biggest map size on marathon speed, it gets a bit laggy on my computer. I recently one a game as ghandhi via diplomatic victory, rather fitting really. Nevermind the ~300 cities I razed to the ground to make room for my infinite city sprawl cities that fed the economy I needed to bribe the city states to vote for me.
 |
| Gotta love "dipomacy". |
Empire Total War - which I would rate higher than civ5 just simply because of the epic infantry and artillery battles you can have. Unfortunately it lags out on desktop after a while too. I recently almost won a game as Russia but then just before I invaded the Mahratta confederacy unleashed its Indian computer hax and my game kept freezing at the exact same turn I my armies were poised to descend from the recently conquered persian provinces. I just needed one more territory to win.
Incidentally Russa is a bear if you can industrialise it. I had as many universities as fingers pumping out that tech and couldnt spend all my money if I tried. Rebellion was a constant problem though, so I had to have a revolution. Rather tragic really, I much preferred the Tsarist Russian flag over the republic version.
And of course Starcraft 2. My favourite game. Only thing that makes me sad is the fact that I'm still a puny gold scrub after all this time. I swear the ladder is evolving. Every time I get better, in macro, micro or strategy, all the other goldies get better too. It makes me sad. If only more casual gamers played sc2, then they could fill up bronze, silver and gold leagues and I could actually get promoted.
Still, it's an epic game. The ultimate battle of wits and mental faculty... and fast hands (ironically the same skills necessary to keep one's girlfriend happy).
Finally, on the entertainment indulgement list is a tv series. Last week, in between sleeping, eating and pretending to do stuff I finally gave the Game of Thrones a shot. I enjoyed it. If you have seen it then I heartily encourage you to play the game of thrones rpg too. Here's the link:
http://www.collegehumor.com/video/6579356/game-of-thrones-rpg
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