I was flying around in the virtual sky recently, innocently minding my own business, and observed the following events unfold. Events amusing enough that they just had to be shared.
The story of Skyhawk and Whambam
Ah, the skies over the virtual battlefields of World War II, a place where egos soar higher than the planes themselves and where the fine art of aerial combat is rivalled only by the even finer art of talking trash on 200. This is the setting of our tale, a story of hubris, humiliation, and high-speed hilarity featuring two of the game’s players a well-known character called: SkyHawk and a noob known as WhamBam.
SkyHawk, for those unfamiliar, is the consummate speed addict. If it’s not the fastest thing with wings, it’s not worth his time. His aircraft of choice? The Tempest, a screaming metal banshee of a plane that trades maneuverability for sheer velocity. According to SkyHawk, the Tempest isn’t just a preference; it’s a necessity. When accused of cowardice for always choosing the fastest plane, he once solemnly explained, “I’d fly the P-51D, but it’s not survivable.” You could almost hear the violins playing in the background.
Enter WhamBam, a fresh-faced rookie with more enthusiasm than experience and a mouth that could give a drill sergeant pause. One fateful day, WhamBam took to the open radio channel and lobbed a verbal grenade at SkyHawk: “You’re just a cowardly little chicken who runs away unless you’ve got every advantage! That’s why you fly the Tempest. You know you’ll need the speed to run!” The accusation was delivered with the confidence of a man who’d just discovered how to retract his landing gear.
SkyHawk, ever the paragon of restraint, responded with a measured defense. “Not true,” he declared. “I prefer the P-51D, but it’s not survivable.” The phrase “not survivable” was beginning to sound less like a tactical assessment and more like the title of his autobiography.
Not long after this exchange, the two pilots found themselves occupying the same piece of the game’s hostile skies. SkyHawk, true to form, was piloting his beloved Tempest, while WhamBam, perhaps inspired SkyHawk’s earlier declaration, was flying the allegedly “not survivable” P-51D. The stage was set.
As the encounter unfolded, it quickly became apparent that WhamBam was out for blood. SkyHawk, however, was out for speed. With WhamBam on his six, SkyHawk pushed his Tempest into a steep dive, trading altitude for velocity in what can only be described as a high-speed retreat. Over the course of over four sectors, the two pilots hurtled across the map, WhamBam’s six .50-caliber machine guns chattering intermittently as he peppered SkyHawk’s aircraft with fire. Pieces of the Tempest began to fall off like it was shedding weight to gain more speed. Yet, miraculously, nothing critical was damaged. The Tempest kept running, and SkyHawk kept taunting.
“You call that shooting?” SkyHawk jibed over the radio. “You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn!”
“Yeah?” WhamBam shot back. “Then why does your plane look like it’s been through a car wash with a belt sander?”
Other players, drawn by the spectacle, began to chime in. The radio channel buzzed with commentary, ranging from unsolicited advice to outright mockery. Even players from SkyHawk’s own team couldn’t resist getting in on the fun.
Eventually, WhamBam gave up the chase, declaring, “I’m not wasting any more ammo on that flying scrapyard.” But SkyHawk, seemingly powered by pure adrenaline and fear, kept running. His Tempest finally limped into friendly territory, low on fuel and missing more parts than a teenager’s first car. Spotting an aircraft carrier, he decided to make an emergency landing and ditch on the deck. That’s when things went from bad to worse.
Unbeknownst to SkyHawk, one of his own teammates, unaware of the ongoing hilarity, had decided to change the carrier’s course. As SkyHawk made his his approach, the ship began to turn, throwing his glide slope into chaos. Desperately trying to adjust, he hit the deck hard. The Tempest bounced once, twice, and then yawed violently off the edge of the carrier. It hit the water and exploded in a fiery finale that could only be described as poetic justice.
A kill had been recorded: WhamBam in his humble Pony had claimed a kill on SkyHawk in his mighty Tempest O'Doom.
The radio channel erupted.
“SkyHawk, was that a landing or an audition for a Michael Bay movie?”
“Guess the P-51D is more survivable after all, huh?”
Even SkyHawk’s own team couldn’t resist piling on. One of them reported hearing him ask the teammate who’d moved the carrier, “Did you do that on purpose?” The player swore he sounded close to tears.
As for WhamBam, he let the scoreboard do most of the talking. His only comment on the radio was a smug, “Thank you, ma’am!”
And so, SkyHawk’s legendary Tempest, the plane he deemed essential for survival, was brought down by a rookie in an allegedly inferior aircraft. The indignity was compounded by the loss of precious Perk Points, not to mention his pride. I for one giggled to myself as I recalled the events and read the buffer as the story of SkyHawk’s fiery demise was retold with ever-increasing exaggeration and embellishments. The two player's reputations would live on, if not in glory, then at least in comedy.
Let this be a cautionary tale to all of us would-be aces flying in the competitive skies of Aces High:
Speed is life… but it can't save us from karma.
TopGunzo
