'Mo Nanas'

[Nash]

This was written by "Holmes" about AW flyers, though I think it crosses over quite well into any arena sim. Enjoy.

Air Warrior is like the Empire State building. And Air Warriors are like monkeys.

When ya first start you're a little, organ-grinder size monkey standing on the street outside. Looking up you see a building swarming with hostile monkeys of all different shapes and sizes. Monkeys are born to climb, and there ain't no Fay Wrays standing on the street, so instinct takes over and soon you're jousting for a handhold and making yer way up the wall.

Some are Fast Monkeys. A bit of natural ability combined with an in depth knowledge of climbing. They become familiar with the cracks and crevices of the particular building and begin to apply their knowledge within those parameters. Soon they are climbing, dodging, or scrambling right over some of the bigger monkeys and snatching bananas from the slower ones, growing bigger.

Others are Scrappy Monkeys. These monkeys spend extra time practicing. They ask lots of questions and live for the chance to go toe to toe with the bigger monkeys. They punch, kick, bite, claw, and spit at the monkeys above them. Scarred, bloody, and with big ol'chunks of fur ripped out they monkey butts they keep hammering. Occasionally they land a good blow, right in the monkey 'nards, and topple a bigger monkey. This inspires them to fight even harder. Soon they learn where to hit and when to duck. They begin to take their share of bananas.

Then there's the Hungry Monkeys. "Mo'nanas!, mo'nanas!" they chant as they cling to the wall from 6:01pm til 7:59 am. Calculating that mo'nanas go to the monkeys with mo hangtime they know that if they hang long enough they will get mo then their share of the 'nanas. Of course they need deep pockets to sustain this frenzy, can't eat all them 'nanas at once, and are prone to the dreaded "Banana Split". They must be very careful, lest they wind up another furry puddle of monkey guts in some alley off 34th street.

Also, ya got yer Techno Monkeys. Bumpy FrankenSchwanz in each paw, electrode catheters up their tails, anti-lock stainless steel vine swingers attached to their feet, gold plated groin clamps feeding g-inducing jugular valves hooked into the fastest system available, with the biggest monitor, tuned to peak performance and cranking out thru a megagigawatt, 3D, multi-usual Krakatoa Banana Blaster, these monkeys spend alot of time diddlin with their gadgets and tweaking their way up the wall.

And, we got MacGyver Monkeys. Riding systems that time forgot with nothing more than a handful of Froot Loops and a pile of bat guano they use every trick in the book, and plenty that ain't, to squirm their way heavenward. Always heavy, uncovering obscure and hidden bananas, they invent their way along using every micro-ounce of every banana that they managed to ensnare, even to the point of using the peels for clothing and shelter.

Advancing their altitudinous aspirations, AW Monkeys invariably encounter the various denizens of the virtual Jungle. Most encounter the Hurler Monkeys first. Kinda like chimps, these sociable chaps gather in large communal halls, spending their time practicing monkey yells and poking each other in the navel. Once in awhile they venture out for a climb but are much happier chillin' with their mates on the middle floors, flingin' monkey turds and grinnin' at all what pass by.

Out on the wall a common first encounter is with a Sumo Monkey. These are the veteran Hungry Monkeys. They've been there twice, done that backwards. All the nonessential flotsam has been skimmed and the essence of the climb congealed to a Zen like "See monkey, knock monkey down" philosophy. When ya hear "Monkey X took my 'nanas 16 times in a row one day", Monkey X is most likely a Sumo.

No avoiding it, eventually every climber crosses ledges with Tribal monkeys. Wearing the skins of dead monkeys, gathering in private branches painted in various warlike colors, they belch, fart, thump 'n headbutt their way around looking for others to belch, fart, thump 'n headbutt with. An astute climber can get a good belly full a slightly bruised 'nanas by finding an area where 2 or more groups of tribal monkeys have been thump 'n headbuttin'.

Look way up there, see that fuzzy li'l dot? That there's a Vulcher Monkey. High above the crowd, with a 10k alt advantage on next week, they float. Looking for the unsuspecting or hurtin climber, sporting k/ds over 8000 and k/ss round .0125, their motto is, "where there's smoke...we fire! (but only after the monkey what caused the smoke has been kilt first.)"

Legend has it that in the penthouses are the Wrinkled Monkeys. Rarely climbing, (hey yer in the penthouse, why climb more?) they only venture out under dark glasses. They have the rare and exotic 'nanas. Highly sought but useless to but a few climbers that are twisted enough to understand their full meaning, the Wrinks are content to live on past glory. They enjoy tossing an occasional 'nana out the window just to see how many climbers fall off trying to grab it.

AND, of course, The Kong Monkeys. At the peak of prosperity, clinging to the radio tower, chest pounding, Fay grabbin', teeth gnashing, flicking planes away as tho they were insects, we find the Kings. Keelin', scorin', the anchors of their respective tribal units, when a climber sees a Kong Monkey on the wall he heads for another country. Whole tribal units have been de-'nana-ed by single Kong Monkeys.

Just when Joe Average Monkey thinks he's seen everything, along comes a Kong Monkey and gives that girl a twirl and makes her whole wurl swirl. Clashes between Kongs can sometimes alter the entire shape of the wall, cause the climb to take a whole nuther direction, provide lotsa ammo for the Hurlers...

Now fight like apes!

---edit---

Mispelled the authors name. Corrected. Thanks Xanax.



[This message has been edited by Nash (edited 12-11-2000).]

[Maverick]

Good post there Nash!!! This guy was very creative and entertaining. He's also damn accurate too!  

Mav

[StSanta]

ROFL!

This can be applied directly to Aces High.

I have an idea what kinda monkeys some pilots are  .

 

------------------
StSanta
9./JG 54 "Grünherz"

[Ripsnort]

 

"Look way up there, see that fuzzy li'l dot? That there's a Vulcher Monkey. High above the crowd, with a 10k alt advantage on next week, they float. Looking for the unsuspecting or hurtin climber, sporting                  k/ds over 8000 and k/ss round .0125, their motto is, "where there's smoke...we fire! (but only after the monkey that caused the smoke has been kilt first.)"

This one looks remotely familiar, from the contents and accusations of another post, hehe!

[This message has been edited by Ripsnort (edited 12-11-2000).]

[xanax]

 Actually, that was written by Holmes or "Ho"
of AW's Turkey Ham squadron.

 He wrote alot of good stuff.....I wish I hadn't lost it all.

Xanax

[SleepyKD]

I remember reading something similar to the 'monkey' analogy for aw quite sometime ago. I do find it very relevant to AH also.

Great Post

Sleepy  

[Westy]

You didn't Xanax. I got it all (or most of it)  

  -Westy

================================

The Last SVGA AW Box  --Holmes


The scene - a warm and sunny spring afternoon, fresh air, blue skies,
A small bird cheerily hops over onto the sidewalk and chirps out a
Tune of merriment.
Enter one Dilbert "Dilbsbee" Dingleschwanz, he pauses briefly in his
stroll to match chrips with his little feathered amigo and skips along
toward his friendly neighborhood software retailer.
Dilbsbee is a salesclerk in the sock department of Plaids, Tweeds, and
Polyesterdays and a budding computer enthusiast. A friendly young lad
living at home with his parents, his mild manner and conservative ways
sometimes caused him the teasing and ridicule of his peers.
When he was a young boy the kids in his class got a discount on a group
order of slingshots because they wore out so many of them shooting him
in the back of the head.
His frail and pale appearance earned him the nickname Eggshell and the
kids would queue up for a chance to see if they could crack him.
-ting-a-ling- chimes the door as Dilbs steps inside -
"Hey it's Dilbsbee!" greets the shopowner.
"Hi there Afterburner, check your six o'clock!", replies Dilbs,
flashing his 1 finger sixgun. "Got anymore Sky Weenie expansion disks?"
"Not since yesterday", frowns Aft. "I think they're holding back and
waiting for MondoWeenie 1 to be shipped."
"MONDOWEENIE 1!!!!???, WOW, sounds awesome!" Dilbs is stunned.
Approaching the discount rack Dilbs's eye catches what looks to be a
flightsim, redtagged and ready to go.
"hey there Aft" he asks "what's this here "Sveegah Air Warrior?"
"Oh I dunno" mumbles Aft, "some Japanese product. You need a modem to
play it."
"Hey, I got a modem with my subscription to the Clean Happy Family Fun
Network. I think I'll take it." says Dilbert.
"Suit yourself, but no refunds on discount software" warns the sales-
 man.
Dilbsbee pays in exact change and makes his way toward the door...
beepbeepbeep beep
"Hey Dilbs, what's that beeping?" questions Afterburner.
"oh, that's my fingernailtop" replies Dilb. "It's running a program to
compute the proper sequence of control stick movement that will enable
me to defeat that Star of Africa dude in the Sky Weenie's III: Mustangs
Rule China expansion set."
"Yeah that African guy is a tough one. Ya know, most people don't even
know that we fought against Africa in WW2." Aft informs the patrons.
"Ha, imagine that, guess they never heard of the Africa Corps." a
stunned Dilbs chimes in (easily stunned this Dilbs fella).
"Yup, you can learn alot of history from these simulations." Aft wisely
notes.
2 weeks later....
The scene - A dark and stormy winter evening, the wind howls and the
cold air is sharp as a knife. A wounded little bird drags his wing
along the curb, bleating out a plea for help.
Enter one Dilbert "Gutslasher" Dingleschwanz, he pauses briefly in his
prowl to raise his left boondocker and brings it smashing down on the
little winged rodent. Then he continues his mission to rescue the Last
Remaining Box.
"heh heh... poof" intones Guts, emulating the last sound of the poor
wretched creature's miserable existance.
"bee ess eee eee jee".
Guts is a Network Security Specialist for some unnamed government
agency and a speedmetal guitar player. An evil looking bastard, living
with Sasha and Tasha the oil wrestling twins, his frightening demeanor
and air of violence cause the citizenry to cross the street when they
see him coming.
 His neighbors have pleaded with the police for more protection and
they managed to get a group discount on iron security bars for their
doors and windows. The disturbing disapearance of the neighborhoods cat
population and the suspicions of satanic rituals have led the people in
his building to dub him The Psycho in 3D.
They travel in small groups for fear ofencountering him alone, at
night, and in the dark.
-ka-SMASH- the door shatters and flies off it's hinges, Gutslasher
barrels in.
"Dilbsbee? Is that you? I almost didn't..." the surprised shopowner
begins.
"Assburner, you moron, the name's Gutslasher," interrupts Guts, "gimme
another copy of SVGA Air Warrior. NOW." he orders as he flashes the
salesclerk the finger.
"umm, sure sure, ummm, was there a problem with the other one? You
know I nev..." the startled and concerned proprietor tries to ask.
"HA, if I had a problem with it then right about now you'd be doubled
over in the stock room trying to pass Disk#3 as tho it was some kinda
three and a half inch kidney stone. And if I wanted to see you open yer
sewerbreathed, root gnawing facehole, I'd have said so. Now get a move
on Afterwipe, before I put you out like a cigarette"
Afterbirth scurries to the back and re-emerges with a dusty copy of
AW: Boxed.
"ahhh, colon right parenthesis. A friend of mine is gonna be real
pleased to see this. It's a good thing you had some left, Analburrower,
else I might've diced off your face, dried it out, and used it for a
mousepad "Guts states matter-of-factly.
"um, Mr. Guts? Have you seen that we've got MondoWeenie in st.." begins
Apeburger, his voice trailing off as he realizes he's best off with his
mouth closed.
"Yeah, I got yer Mondoweenie right here... bite me." Guts demonstrates
his award winning joystick grip. And then, almost as an afterthought,
"Dweeb." he adds.
Gutslasher tosses a handful of twenties towards the cashier and shoves
his way toward the exit....
clank clankclank clank
"Hey M..M..Mr. Gutslasher w..w..what's that cl..cl..clanking?" squeaks
the terrified shopkeeper.
"My balls" bellows Guts.

[xanax]

 You are "the" man, Westy. Thanks!

Xanax