CTF Showdown: id vs. PQ
A friendly challenge, a few well-placed rail shots...and
an hour later, total ownage!
sun bore down on us that day as we stood proud, inhaling the
western dust and squinting red-eyed at our foes. It was Pappy-R
to my left, his black hat shading his eyes, and Lee'Mon next
to him, shouldering his rocket launcher in anticipation of
the showdown. I heard Tungsten scuff his feet on the ground
and doc spit into the dirt with a menacing growl. With a sneer,
Knower unholstered his railgun. Sluggo, crt, and Mad Dipper
rounded out the group, three of the best hired guns a posse
could ask for.
tipped my hat to the enemy and said, "it's time."
I would have, if I'd been wearing a hat. And admittedly, q3wctf2,
"Courtyard Conundrum", isn't all that dusty, really.
But I think doc actually did spit.
so often, the id guys issue a challenge to the world -- jump
on their server and beat them at CTF. A few times I've jumped
on myself in an attempt to dethrone the creators in their
own game. But yesterday, after I'd read Graeme Devine's .plan,
I couldn't get into the server. After staring for minutes
at the awaiting gamestate screen, I logged out, sadness
filling my heart.
fired off a quick note to Graeme. "Hey," I asked,
"is the id challenge still up?"
we played two games and then quit out, undefeated," Graeme
replied. "Why, is PQ up for an id. vs. PQ CTF game?"
thought I heard the distant sound of a gauntlet dropping to
we up for it, he asked! After affirming that we indeed were,
Graeme went off to roust the id guys and gals, while I told
Pappy-R, the PQ news guy, and Lee'Mon, the PQ editorialist,
to get themselves on the id server pronto. Since I still needed
at least five more teammates, I ran through the GameSpy offices
searching for potential posse members. Doc and Fargo were
eating lunch in the conference room. "You! id! CTF! Server!
Now!" I screeched incoherently at doc, while Fargo frowned
at me and paused mid-chew, perhaps worried about the sudden
release of my grasp on the English language. Doc was up and
off like a flash while Fargo ran to help roust more teammates;
they didn't need a translation.
ran around the corner to the tech department. No one! They
were scattered to the winds, too busy getting our network
purring again. I came back to my computer and saw a flashing
ICQ message from crt. "Which server?" It read. I'm
convinced that crt can hear a challenge while immersed in
a sensory deprivation tank and wearing earplugs. Just in time,
Mad Dipper poked his head into my office to ask where the
ownage was about to take place.
jumped on id's standard CTF server and assembled ourselves
into a blue team. We played around and got some warm-up in
while people messed with their configs and whatnot, and while
Mad Dipper grabbed the necessary map. crt was having some
problems with framerate, so Sluggo, one of GSI's veteran CTF
players, hopped in his place for a while. Once we were all
in and settled, the game began.
Next: who's y' daddy?!