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    PlanetQuake | Features | Articles | CTF Showdown: id vs. PQ
   

CTF Showdown: id vs. PQ
A friendly challenge, a few well-placed rail shots...and an hour later, total ownage!
  — by Hellchick


The 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.

I tipped my hat to the enemy and said, "it's time."

Or 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.

And they're off!

Every 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.

I fired off a quick note to Graeme. "Hey," I asked, "is the id challenge still up?"

"Well, we played two games and then quit out, undefeated," Graeme replied. "Why, is PQ up for an id. vs. PQ CTF game?"

I thought I heard the distant sound of a gauntlet dropping to the ground.

Were 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.

I 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.

We 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?!

 


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