Aces High Bulletin Board
General Forums => Aces High General Discussion => Topic started by: Montezuma on November 09, 2001, 04:49:00 PM
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Welcome to Pink Guppy's AW Spam Hole!
This thread will be dedicated to recycling old AW posts for use on the AH BBS.
The first post is from Slug, who suggests a new scoring system for AW.. err AH.
>>>
From: JackG0504 (jackg0504@aol.com)
Subject: Summer? Slug? Reruns!
Newsgroups: alt.games.air-warrior
View this article only
Date: 1998/06/25
CAPTAIN SLUG'S IMPROVED SCORING SYSTEM:
Beginning with the next camp (or camp 823.55DogDogCharlie Alpha2 -
whichever comes first), a new scoring system goes into effect. This system
was developed by Slug *TH*, Morale Officer of the Turkey Ham Squadron and
approved by Moggy, Cent, Twist, DoK and Bingo. (Bingo?!?!?! who cares what
Bingo wants!?!?!)
Raw Score = number of sorties flown naked
Rawhide Score = number of sorties flown while dressed as a cowboy
Rahway Score = number of sorties flown from a prison cell in North
Carolina
Stanky Index = number of kills immediately followed (within .5 seconds) by
a massive release of intestinal gas
Spanky Index = number of missions flown while watching video tapes of the
Little Rascals
Spucky Index = number of saliva spots left on monitor per sortie
Typing Deaths = percentage of missions that end with pilot typing "nyah
nyah you can't get m ......" YOU HAVE BEEN SHOT DOWN.
Verbal Diarrhea Score = number of times pilot is told to shut up by other
pilots
Weenie Index = percentage of missions where pilot clams "rtb ammo or fuel"
but is really just trying to land points (also commonly referred to as the
"NBQ" or No Balls Quotient)
Based on this new scoring system, the "winner" of each camp will be
determined on a sliding scale which is multiplied by the following
factors:
Pucker Factor (2 points) = number of missions where you begin with a
disadvantage and come out victorious (or at least alive)
Brownie Factor (.5 points) = number of times you publicly post the words
"That's right, Moggy [HiTech]. I agree with you, buddy."
Humor Factor = number of times per month that you post something that
makes the Slug (or anybody else) pee their pants laughing
Spider Factor (3 points) = having a cool AW [AH] web site
Welcome Wagon Factor (15 points) = number of times per camp you run across
a newbie and offer to help him/her and then vultch them repeatedly off the
runway to teach them "humility"
This system has been developed to make AW [AH] more enjoyable. You will enjoy
yourself from now on or we will come to your house and relieve ourselves
on your carpet and furnishings. Please email any comments about the new
system to: hooduhfukairs@U-812.FU
By the way, for all you folks who worry about your scores, think about
this. No matter how good you think you are or how many points you score,
I, the lowly Slug, could shoot your bellybutton through your eye sockets anytime I
choose. Just pray that I don't choose.
Slug *TH*
Morale Officer
Turkey Ham Squadron
4th FB Group
Troop 49, BSA
>>>
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Now THAT is a score system I could get behind! But I always thought the spanky index was something else . . . I guess I won't be getting so many points in that category after all.
SOB
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Today in the Spam Hole we have a song by +Phnx of the Nomads Squadron.
Too bad AH has killshooter and you can't shoot down your wingman. Also, the reference to 'Deathstar' is a fully crewed B-17, another thing that would be nice in AH.
>>>>
Subj: Lord, I'm bored
Date: 97-11-03 04:24:59 EST
From: Choperdoc
Ok, because I have way too much time on my hands, and it's looking like
no one else is really posting much, I figured I'd kill another song for
you.
This one didn't quite turn out the way I wanted, but Hey, every dork has
his moments. So, here it is. "Nomadian Rhopsody", sung to the tune of
"Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen. Sorry about the name of the song, but I
couldn't think of anything else to call it. So: here goes:
Is this our squad night?
Will that plane B and Z?
This guy won’t turn fight,
He’ll escape with his greater E,
Up late at night, Guess we need a life, I’d think,
I’m just a poor Mad, beer’s almost empty,
Oh well, cause, here I come, there I go,
Start out high, diving low,
Channel one: "You Mads blow”,
But it doesn’t mater to me,
You see . . .
Oh my! I just killed +Band!
Just filled his butt with lead, he flew right into my spread,
Come on! The fight’s just begun,
But now I just blew my wingman away!
Come on! D’oooohhhhhhhh,
Didn’t mean to make him die,
If he’s not back real soon, I think I’ll auger,
On my run, on my run,
Wonder if it really maters.
Too late, the attack’s begun,
I dove down for my line,
Hope I drop my bombs in time,
“Good flight, everybody, We’d better go,
“Meet at B79, we’ll wait for you”
Oh my! D’ooooohhhhh,
Think I’m gonna die,
Mads all left, I think I’m gonna stall!
<musical break>
I see the little silloueto of a Yak,
Gonna loop, gonna loop, then you shoot him down, Pinged you!
Thunderbolts or Lightnings, “your flying’s rather frightening, Dweeb!”
Gotta yo-yo (gotta yo-yo), Gotta yo-yo (gotta yo-yo), Gotta yo-yo here
we go,
Am I too low-o-o-o?
I’m just a poor Mad, why do they hunt me?
He’s just a poor Mad, has no skills we can see,
Where did he learn how to be such a dweeb?
Engine’s out, ammo’s low, no place I can go,
<Esc> P, No! I think that I’m too low,
Too damn low,
<Esc> P, I think that I’m too low,
Too damn low!
<Esc> P, I think that I’m too low,
Too damn low!
Think I’m too low, too damn low, too damn low
Never, never, never get that low -o -o -o,
No no no no no no no!
Oh can’t you see, oh can’t you see ah,
That the dweeb is gonna blow,
Cz all must see that the Nomads have forgoton me, oh me, oh gee!!!!
<musical Break>
So I think it’s a Deathstar that I’m gonna fly,
Don’t care who chin guns, cause I think we all will die!
Hey maybe, can we can do something crazy,
Just gotta get alt, just gotta get alt while in here-ah.
Oooooooooo
Ooo yeah, Ooo yeah,
Guess it just don’t mater,
Cause I’m just a dweeb,
Nothing really maters,
cause I will just splatter,
you see. . . .
Damn I think my screen froze . . .
~end
Hope you enjoyed,
+Phnx
<Can't sing that high>
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I remember when I first joined AH there was a link to a document called, 'How to fly and fight in Aces High', a messed up copy of 'How to fly and fight in Air Warrior'.
Today in the Spam Hole we have the first part of the history section of Brooke's book.
The ending here shows how history repeats in these communities.
>>
From: Brooke P. Anderson (brooke@alumni.caltech.edu)
Subject: Re: What was Air Warrior REALLY like?
Newsgroups: alt.games.air-warrior
Here is a section from the manual HOW TO FLY AND FIGHT IN AIR
WARRIOR -- figured it might be of interest considering
the topic.
---- APPENDIX: HISTORY OF AIR WARRIOR ----
Air Warrior started as a program written by Kelton Flynn back
when he was working on his Ph.D. (in nuclear engineering or
physics, as I recall). It didn't bear much resemblance to the
Air Warrior of today -- you'd type in maneuvers for your plane;
your opponent would type in maneuvers for his plane; the computer
would crunch some numbers and come up with new plane positions;
and so on. It was played over terminals on the school's
mainframe. Kelton got a lot more interested in this and decided
after graduation (along with one of his pals -- I think it was
John Taylor) to found a company to produce a multi-player flight
sim. So Kesmai was formed, and Air Warrior was conceived.
Kesmai started out with all of a couple of employees.
To implement Air Warrior, Kesmai hooked up with GEnie, a new
on-line service at the time. Air Warrior came out in 1987 and
was the first multi-player combat flight simulator (at least
outside of the military). Back then it cost $10 or $12 per hour
to play and was available only for Macintoshes. That was in the
days when Macs had the little nine-inch black-and-white screens
and no joysticks. Still, I remember what a blast it was to find
such a thing in those days: an honest-to-God multi-player combat
flight sim!
That first version of Air Warrior was pretty rough by today's
standards. The frame rate was low (perhaps a handful of frames
per second, depending on which type of computer you had), rough
black-and-white graphics, bullets that flew on laser-beam
straight paths, and wacky bugs (like being able to climb to the
stratosphere as long as your plane was climbing while inverted).
But there was nothing else like it out there. Keep in mind that
Air Warrior was out only a handful of years after the original
Flight Simulator by Bruce Artwick of SubLogic, when the best
PC-based flight sims in the world didn't have much more than Air
Warrior in the way of graphics and had no multi-player component
at all. For people like me -- raving WWII aviation enthusiasts
-- this was a dream come true.
As the years chugged on, the Air-Warrior program was refined
(adding more realistic gunnery and getting rid of flight-dynamics
bugs), and the program was ported to the Atari and Amiga
computers. Of course, folks at Kesmai knew that they were
missing a big market in the PC and announced their plans for a
DOS-based EGA version for the PC. Jeez, did that ever start the
comments flowing on GEnie's Air-Warrior message boards. Lots of
people were concerned that the PC folks would swarm into the
arenas, flooding the arenas to overflowing with dweebs who didn't
know how to fly. There would go the neighborhood. Maybe it was
a little like that at first (not as much challenge for the old
folks), but then the PC folks learned the ropes just like
everyone else had, and the game had more participants, which
added to the fun.
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Part II of Brooke's Air Warrior History.
Scenarios and Training are invented, and another impending dweeb influx.
>>>
Scenarios were also introduced into the mix of fun. Pioneered by
guys like Doktor Gonzo (or "Dok"), these were battles set up with
definite objectives and resources. To me, playing in a
historical scenario gave the same feeling I got when reading
about real WWII air combat. To me, scenarios seemed like a whole
new level of fun in Air Warrior.
But then came the "stagnant" years. Kesmai continued to make
minor refinements, but some people had been asking for more
realism or more features for a long time, and Kesmai wasn't
giving much feedback. Previously, Kesmai had given lots of
feedback and had talked to the players a lot about proposed
improvements and new versions. Without the feedback, a lot of us
figured that Air Warrior was stagnating, that Kesmai was more
interested in producing other games that perhaps brought in more
money. A lot of the old timers thought that this was the
beginning of the end for Air Warrior, the start of a slow decline
into obscurity.
What we didn't know was that Kesmai was working on a vastly
improved version, the SVGA version for PC's. Besides much higher
resolution and better graphics, it would have most of the realism
features that had asked for over the years: stalls, spins,
blackouts, etc. There would be accompanying changes in the
on-line arenas. Kesmai hadn't talked about it at all, though,
because they were tired of the players constantly asking, "When
will it be out? You said it would be out in two weeks. It's
past two weeks, so when will it be out, huh? When?" That gets
old very fast during a development process.
So, to the surprise of many, Kesmai came out with the new SVGA
version, which fairly closely resembles the versions available
today. The Mac version was updated, too. About that time, the
Atari ST and Amiga were declining into obscurity, and Kesmai
dropped their support for those platforms. The SVGA version of
Air Warrior, with its up-to-date features, generated some
interest from the retail market, and Kesmai entered into a deal
to market it in stores. Unfortunately, that petered out due (it
seemed to me) to poor distribution on the part of the
distribution company (not Kesmai) and to a game that was not
tailored to the ham-fisted "I want eye candy" arcade-game crowd
(which seems larger than the rabid "I want realism" WWII
air-combat-enthusiast crowd). However, this blip on the retail
market might have contributed to Air Warrior being noticed by a
Japanese company. The company invested a bit in Air Warrior,
paying for the addition of artwork and data sets for some of the
Japanese planes. At any rate, things were back to humming along
in Air Warrior.
The Air-Warrior Training Academy started probably sometime around
1993 or 1994. A bunch of the veteran players, knowing how steep
the learning curve was for Air Warrior, wanted to help new
players get up to speed more quickly. Also, Kesmai entered into
deals with two other on-line services (CRIS and Delphi) to offer
Air Warrior. Players liked this because it introduced some price
competition into the mix. GEnie had already dropped its on-line
charges from $10-$12/hour to $6/hour. Now, with the extra
competition, it went to something like $3/hour. I think that
Kesmai was finally starting to make some money, too, because it
hired a lot more people, many of them from the ranks of the avid
Air-Warrior fans.
So, the Training Academy was up and running. Air Warrior was
running on GEnie, CRIS, and Delphi. Scenarios were humming
along. The cost for Air Warrior declined to $2/hour or less.
Things were great. And then, in 1996, they got even better,
although in an erratic way. Kesmai made a deal with CompuServe,
America Online, and Earthlink to offer Air Warrior on their
services; and GEnie, long the most popular spot for Air Warrior,
pretty much went belly up (due, in my opinion, to very poor
management and to being far behind the technology curve).
Overall, Kesmai now had a much larger market because of the size
of America Online and CompuServe; but the demise of GEnie as THE
place for Air Warrior caused a momentary disruption in scenarios
and the Training Academy. Kesmai also had a new Windows-version
of Air Warrior for the new services, and the new services ran on
their own servers so that scenarios could not be an integrated
affair among all of the on-line services. Users on Delphi, CRIS,
and what was left of GEnie could all play together in scenarios.
Users on CompuServe and America Online could only play (ahem)
with themselves. I'm not sure what Earthlink hooked up to --
perhaps into the CompuServe host.
This caused a scattering of the Air-Warrior community. It was
sad to see all of the old timers scattering to the winds, and
some seemed to drift off altogether during this time of change.
(Sniff, sniff.) There was even another Air-Warrior-like product
out there: ICI's Warbirds, written largely, I hear, by the
Air-Warrior veteran Killer. This has drawn off some Air-Warrior
players, too, but competition is a very good thing for us
consumers.
So, in late 1996, it was a little bit unclear where THE place for
Air Warrior would be. It wouldn't be GEnie. The leading
contender seemed to be America Online, but Delphi's prices looked
good, too. Then America Online announced cheap flat-fee access
to everything including Air Warrior, and a huge number of people
flooded into the game. This caused the same cry heard when the
EGA DOS-version of Air Warrior came out: "The skies will be
clogged to overflowing with dweebs!" Again, it was true for a
time, but I believe that it will pass as people gain experience
-- as the transient dies out -- just as it did way back when.
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Montezuma:
I am glad you posted these things. I am a former AW AW4W, AW2 and AW3 guy. Many of the things yo uposted I had either read about as a fledgling AW pilit (read dweeb) or had experienced myself. We had some times but, in AH now, we are making new times.
Thanks again <S>
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Part III
>>>
At any rate, due to the huge popularity on the newly added
on-line services compared to the "old three" (Delphi, CRIS, and
GEnie), Kesmai decided in early 1997 to end support for the older
versions of the software. GEnie, then all but unused for Air
Warrior anyway, was completely out of the loop. Delphi and
perhaps CRIS could run the newer Windows-version of Air Warrior
and so were not likewise cut out. They, along with Earthlink,
hooked up to the same arenas that CompuServe users flew in. Of
all the services, America Online had by far the largest user base
-- larger than the others combined.
Well, that pretty much settled the issue as of the date this
manual was written: America Online seems to be THE place for Air
Warrior. Now, the future of Air Warrior looks brighter than
ever. Popularity is higher than ever, and I think that Kesmai is
finally starting to make a decent amount of money from Air
Warrior -- which encourages more development. Air Warrior II is
due out soon; the Air-Warrior Training Academy is getting back up
to speed; war nights are up and running; and I hear rumors of
more frequent scenarios. I hope that a new Air-Warrior community
will form around the "alt.games.air-warrior" newsgroup, where
people can participate no matter which host they play on.
Wow, Air Warrior with lots of realism and lots of players, all
for such a low price. If this is how it had been back in 1987, I
never would have graduated.
-- Brooke P. Anderson
>>>>>
This post was written about 10 years after AW started and ends with AW at its zenith, when it was the most popular massive multiplayer combat sim ever.
In retrospect, it somehow seems obvious that hooking up with AOL would eventually set Kesmai on a course with oblivion.
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Thx
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Air Warrior and Monkeys
by Ho
Air Warrior is like the Empire State Building. And Air Warriors are like monkeys.
When you first start you're a little, orgon-grinder size monkey standing on the street outside. Looking up you see a building swarming with hostile monkeys of all different shapes ans sizes. Monkeys are born to climb, ant there ain't no Fay Wrays standing on the street, so instinct takes over ans soon you're jousting for a handhold and making yer way up the wall.
Some are Fast Monkets. 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 scramblin right over some of the bigger monkeys and snatchin bananas from the slower ones, growing bigger.
Others are Scrappy Monkeys. These monkeys spend extra time practining. 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'chuncks of fur ripped out they monkey butts they keep hammerin. 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 6:01 pm til 7:59 am. Calculating that mo'nanas go to the monkey with mo hangtime they know that if they hang long enough they will get mo than 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 tail, 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 manage 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 Monkey 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 heir mates on the middle floors, flingin monkey turds and grinnin at all that pass by.
Out on the wall a common first encounter is with a Sumo Monkey. these are the veteran Hungry Monkeys. Thet'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 'nana 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 ded 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 lil 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 around .0125, their motto is - "where there's smoke... we fire! (but only after the monkey that 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 Kngs. Keelin, scorin, the anchors of their respective tribal units, when a climber see 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 Avg 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...
Leona and Harry Kesmai proudly announce the opening of the New Real Building at 870;2 Arena 4.
The 'Nanas are fresher and sweeter and as of now there aren't many Kongs to keep you from those Hooter laden Fays.
Fast Monkeys can get a preview of every nook and cranny. Scrappy Monkeys can test there mettle on a bigger, steeper wall. Hungry Monkeys? Mo 'nanas, nuf said. Hey Techno Monkeys git out your tweakers, plenty mo stuff to calculate. The MacGyver's been over there already, gatherin trnkets.
Tis a regular simian shower over 870 as monkeys of all sizes leap off and make thier way crosstown.
NOW FIGHT LIKE APES!
Ho-Thar of Atlantis
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And the best I've ever read in my years in AW.
THE SCAVANGER POSTS!!
-------------------------------
Sep. 03, 1993 T.NAUGHTON [SCAVENGER] at 23:36 EDT I GO DIVING DOWN 1:
I think my handle is very far out. That's cool or hot or bad depending on your generation bias. It comes with a vision of myself in AW. I saw myself cruising around like the Red Baron watching for victims. Since I am new I would cruise the skies of Europe looking for wounded warriors trying to get home. Engine smoking, control cables half shot away, aileron hanging flipping back and forth like Heston in Battle of Midway. Then down would come the SCAVENGER preying on the helpless getting some easy kills building up his score, becoming a DWEEB to be reckoned with. Now the name is great. The problem is OLE SCAVENGER is getting his butt shot off roaming the skies of Europe. The only smoke I am see un is coming out the back view of my aircraft. The only control cables half shot away, ailerons flipping seemed to be on MY airplane. Something is wrong with my plan. I was thinking about changing my handle but DEAD DUCK is already taken and then someone might take SCAVENGER and I would never earn it back. I know I'll change it to SC-avenger (Southern California Avenger). Maybe I could avenge other DWEEBS from the Southern California area. I could stay up really late when you EDT guys are very tired and then I can come diving down. hee hee hee hee There has to be some way to make this handle work!! Surely I can figure some way where I get to come diving down. This sure isn't like SWOTL where I used to just come diving down alot. But you just wait, one of these days I am going figure out how to come diving down again and then just watch out!!!
Sat Sep 04, 1993 T.NAUGHTON [SCAVENGER] at 21:28 EDT I COME DIVING DOWN Part 2:
O.K. so I've been waiting to come diving down like I said so I could do this SCAVENGER thing and bring sorrow and woe to the wives and girlfriends of those poor wounded prey that I come diving down on. So last weekend I was up there waiting to come diving down right and nothing was showing on my radar. There were a couple of dots here and there when suddenly, below me was a dot that hadn't shown up on my radar but started showing up as an icon that said it was an A-26. Looked like he was sorta sneaken around the mountains trying to, shall we say, remain incognito? Now that drove this diving down thing into a real frenzy. I mean to tell ya I reaaaaly wanted to go diving down. So I did and just to make sure it was going to work I pulled the trigger at 8,000 ft and just held it down. And just to make sure he wouldn't fly away I had the airspeed indicator pegged out. So with the guns smoken the bullets flyen man did I come diving down. I think I got some hits. I can't be sure cause I went by pretty fast. Then I found out I only had 175 ft. in which to pull out from a 475kt. vertical dive. Well That's about it. It was over pretty quick and I sorta hope the A-26 guys weren't looken out of the cockpit when I went by but what the heck I finally got to come diving down didn't I?
Sun Sep 05, 1993 T.NAUGHTON [SCAVENGER] at 13:47 EDT I GO DIVING DOWN PART 3:
O.K. I don't want this post to be misunderstood. I'm not really upset with anybody. It's just that I'm the sort of person that likes to do things in my own time, if you know what I mean. I like to learn at my own pace and I don't want to be rushed. So if you were the guys I met up with Sunday night I'm not still mad but give a little consideration in the future O.K.? Sunday night it was quite around C-Land. Didn't seem to be much of anything going on in B-Land either. A couple or three markers were all I saw and since I wasn't having much luck gunning I thought I'd try my hand at dive bombing. So I checked out a P-38 and put on a couple of bombs. I took off from C-19 and headed over sorta of north west where I remembered seeing a B-Aircraft carrier. I got up to 10,000 ft. and it took a while to get over there and nobody I mean nobody was in sight. Not on radar and not out between all those metal bars that you look through to see out the side of a P-38. So I'm real relaxed about all this, just crusin. I look at the radar and that carrier is getten real close and its about time to do my thing, that's right, I'm goen to go diving down real soon. I set my sights over to bomb sight with esc-sd-enter and I sorta roll over a little to see the Carrier---and all of a sudden I got red icons showing up. Three of them and they're closing fast. I need a little time here to get set up. But I see one of these ICONS moving around behind me and the numbers are going from 5000 down to about 1800 and I'm getten nervous. I want to see where the other ones are so I use my coolie hat thing on my brand new $66.00 Chips and Bits Thrustmaster FCS, but those big metal things on the side windown of a P-38 are letting me see nothen. I feel like changing my handle again. This time to a [TRAPPED RAT] who is trying to look through the bars of his cage. So I figure I am not going to last much longer with my bombs unless I get real busy diving down. I'm just about in the right spot so I push it over and down we go. Just then I get the first taka taka taka up my rear view but I'm diving down so the heck with that. The big X is right on the carrier deck but under all this pressure I forgot what you do to drop the bombs. So I hit the help screen and read a bit and put in esc-A-ent and a little message pops up says bombs armed. Then I look up and the X is right in the center of that carrier deck so things are looking real good. I am diving down real fast. Now this is the question. If the bombs are armed and you put them right in the center of that big carrier deck do you get credit for the hits if the aircraft is still attached to the bombs?
Tue Sep 14, 1993 T.NAUGHTON [SCAVENGER] at 23:05 EDT I go Diving Down Part 4:
I have been on line with Genie since July 27th. I have NEVER EVER experienced NODE problems of any kind. That is until I registered for and received an invitation to, fly a Spit for the RAF in Eagle Day. As a flying sergeant in RAFVR I was called up right out of AWTA to fill in for the shortage of Spitfire pilots. I Was lucky enough to be posted to Sqd 54 at Manston. I even picked up a stove lid to sit on. The night before I got little sleep as one tends to review all that he has learned, wondering how the lessons of school will hold up to the reality of combat. About 6:00AM I was awakened to the sound of air raid sirens. That was followed closly by the WUMP WUMP WUMP sound of the 550lb bombs from diving JU88s. We could see smoke pouring from the ruins of the El Monte node. I ran quickly to aid with fire control but to no avail. El Monte Node was out of the fight. Then I tried to report in. Over and over I got only---"HHH: His Majesty's Service Interupted". All day Saturday and Sunday I tried to get into the battle but to no avail. "HHH His Majesty's Service" was out all weekend. All I can do is hope the Germans do not realize the strategic importance of our node network and that they will now leave the El Monte Node alone. If they ever figure out how important the nodes are to vectoring us into AW. Well" Loose Lips Sink Ships" so I will say no more, hint-hint-nudge-nudge, say no more . Lets just hope Goring did his usual poor job of strategic planning. Secretly it made me feel a bit proud that the Germans would expend that much effort just to keep-- me-- out of the battle.
I GO DIVING DOWN part 5:
It was one of those lazy summer days in /MO 4. In fact I felt pretty safe as the only dots I could see had little green icons just like mine. I was just lifting off the runway when unusual things started to happen. This time the messenger of death arrived with a friendly greeting. *6666 Hey! Is that you Scav? *4444 Scav's Up! *3999 Hey,Scav Reluctantly my eyes left the horizon and moved downward to the little black place where the messages come from. It was a place I have ignored as being new meant NO RADIO MESSAGES! Raising the gear was forgotten as I tried to recall the radio procedure. Lets see I am already on Ch#1 so if I just type / and then the reply, yes that's it just / reply. /YUP I type the shortest message I can think of, then my hand races back to the view keys and my eyes back to the horizon as the aircraft begins to buffet. I push the nose back down and then I stab at the views but they no longer work. I am now blind in every direction but forward. *6666 We sure like reading your posts Scav! *4444 Yea,They are pretty funny. *3999 Switch to CH2 Scav! A cold sweat begins to form on my brow. The airspeed indicator is now going down not up. The buffeting is now being complemented by the stall indicator light as it joyfully blinks on and off. I don't want to be rude, yet I want to live. To fly, to roll and go diving down on some unsuspecting prey. Instead I am less than 200 ft. off the ground rapidly approaching a mountain, staggering on the verge of a stall, landing gear down, views out trying to write a letter with my left hand and fly with my right just because some guy said Hi Scav! Is that you? I am thinking fast. Why are the views out. My eyes travel to the message line. /Yup sits there waiting to be...............Entered, that's it I have to hit enter to send. I quickly hit the enter and then my hand races back to the views. They work again. Why is my airspeed so low? Oh my God! The flaps are down. I must have hit the flaps when I was pounding on the views trying to get them to work. Flaps Up. Air Speed starts to crawl back up toward 100IAS. The buffeting subsides and the stall light quits blinking. Something is still not right the airspeed is going up but too slowly. Oh, the gear is still down. I think its damaged. I am getting awfully close to that mountain... I have absolutely no idea who shot me down. I never saw him. Just just as I was trying to type the commands to switch to Channel #2 there were those red flashs going off all over the cockpit as someone put and end to my misery. I am sure that sending messages back and forth can really be fun. One hand whipping the stick to and fro a roll here and immelman there while with the left hand one sends messages of encouragement, friendship or even invitations to a duel of death. I will learn this. Someday I too will wait high above some DWEEB I will radio Hi Dweeb, Having Fun!!! When he reaches out with that left hand I will see his aircraft begin to wobble. Then, I WILL COME DIVING DOWN!! hehehehehehe But,For me,today, it was sort of like having the mailman show up just as I am trying to put out a fire in my house. I am naked and running around trying to figure out what room holds the dog and the cat. I hear the fire engines in the distance. They are NOT going to get here in time. The mailman arrives, holding out a packet of mail and says just sign here. I say excuse me but my house is on fire here! He doesn't go away. He smiles sweetly and says they really enjoy reading your letters. Reluctantly I reach into my pocket for my pen but I have no cloths on. The dog is howling, the neighbors are watching and I am wishing the fire would come and just take me quickly away. * Numbers have been changed to accurately represent the confusion SCAVENGER aka [RADIO MAN]
I GO DIVING DOWN PART 6:
Eagle Day T-30 I report to my assigned Attack Sqd. #609 and present my log book; I receive a hearty welcome and a pleasant round of jolly good banter. T-20 I am quizzed on my experiences with AWTA; My hours with instructor Bushwacker; and My flying experience in general; T-18 Everyone gathers in good fellowship to hear my response; I reply that; Actually old chaps, I only took one session with Bushwacker and the ruddy AWTA before my Uncle Dowding pulled me out the class and sent me here; The Sqd seems to gather more closely as I answer more questions about flying the Spit; T-15 My log book and responses are collected T-10 I am put under close arrest until someone from intelligence arrives; T-09 I am strip searched and required to explain the rules of cricket; T-07 They are finally satisfied I wasn't parachuted in by the Luftwaffe to sabotage an attack Sqd; T-06 Someone from Group HQ. escorts me away from the good ole chaps in #609 and flies me over to Patrol Sqd. 610 T-08 Sqd 610 Welcomes me and asks a few questions while examining my log book; They ask me to look at my map and discuss the defence sectors; They listen closely to my answers; T-06 I am strip searched and required to explain why Edward gave up the Crown T-04 I am given back my uniform but no parachute and no side arm; T-03 I am climbing out of B-33, a grin on my face, guns armed, heading for the English Channel to do battle; T-02 Hdqs requests that I return to the field as Eagle Day has not started yet; T-01 I am strip searched and required to explain Cromwell's tactics at the Battle of Waterloo. T-00 The Sqd leader escorts me to my patrol sector T+1:30 I have seen one enemy aircraft, have not fired my guns and flew 1:30 min on the fence line. The only British casualty in my sector occurs at T+90 when ole man Herms, at the Dairy, looks up to see my plane, trips and falls on his hayfork. But Gentlemen it was Eagle Day and I was there!!
I GO DIVING DOWN PART 7:
Because of these the technical articles I have written for Air Warrior-----I am getting requests for more detailed source material. Some of these books will be available from the AWTA Library. Thirty Seconds Over Anywhere also titled Shortest Raids in History The history of the DooLittle or nothing raids by Scavenger Covers the 30 second raid over the B-Land Carriers The 12 second raid on an A-26 The 9 second raid on A-16 and much much more. To Fly and Die The Eagle Day sequel to Thirty Seconds over Anywhere Reach for the Ground The true story of a mentally disadvantaged DWEEB Augernaut The day to day diary of Americas first Augernaut. One Brief Shining Moment As told to Wm Manchester by Scavenger A series of recollections just before the wheels left the ground. Unsafe at any Speed As told to Ralph Nader by Scavenger A series of recollections just after the wheels left the ground Fighter Combat In depth discussion of combat tactics between Scavenger and Robert DeNiro* Low YoYo High YoYo Walking the Dog Around the World Are you talking to me? The Bridges at Yoko Ono Imagine there are no countries, and no radar too. I hope these selections will help prepare your mind for the tough days ahead. *Robert Shaw (Mouse) was invited but gratefully declined.
I GO DIVING DOWN 7:
Dweebering, oops, During the battle of Munda I, at last, had an opportunity to exit the rands of Dweebdom. The enemy bomber formation tried to sneak around the my patrol route. I caught them redhanded and radioed command where to vector the entire Japanese force to intercept. Only problem was I radioed the wrong sectors and then got shot down. When asked to explain the misshap I wrote the following to command at Christmas 1993.
THE NIGHT BEFORE MUNDA
It was the night before Munda, when all through the house.
Not a creature was stirring,... no spoons and no mouse.
The maps and sectors were put in to place.
In hopes that the Scav would make no mistakes.
The Scav was nestled all snug in his bed.
While visions of enema danced in his head.
The take off next day was at T-ZERO.
The Scavenger hoped he'd soon be a hero.
His mission was to be a good scout.
His comrades awaited the sound of his shout.
The time passed slowly as onward he flew.
The moments grew tense, his anxiety grew.
When all of a sudden there arose such a sight.
The enema Bomber wing in all of their might.
Then down came the fighters they lanced through the sky.
Scav. must report, for soon he would die.
The radio came on, the message was fast.
"Come Kotoshi and Bebop, on Twisted and Crash"
To the top of my sector I'm in 2 comma 2.
Hurry Grey Eagle, and Bushwacker too.
The fighters came down, their tracers flashed red.
Scavenger knew, he soon would be dead.
The flames then burst from the front of his Zero.
Yes, he would die, but die as a hero.
As he started to burn he heard so much chatter.
He listened to hear what could be the matter.
The radio broadcasted, the words he most feared.
Scav, reported the wrong sector, no bombers are here.
His earphones turned red as his Commander exclaimed.
This could cost us the battle, God, Dweebs are a pain!
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Tue Jun 14, 1994 T.NAUGHTON [Scavenger] at 01:58 EDT
Being five years old in 1943 meant being a W.W.II child. Having a brother go off to be a bomber pilot fixed my childhood fantasies forever. While other peoples children may have dreamed of cowboys and Indians my fantasy world was filled with fighter planes and bombers, my cowboys were aces, my Indians the Japanese and Germans. One night when I was about five or six (1943 or 44) We all walked up to the High Point Theater a few blocks from our house. John Wayne was staring in a movie called FLYING TIGERS. I was deeply impressed with the glory of anyone who put on a helmet and goggles and took off into the wild blue yonder. The scene that just stuck in my mind forever was John Wayne sitting in a Flying Tiger P-40 Warhawk fighter as he put on his leather flight helmet and started his engine. His canopy was open and when he was ready to take off he looked to his John Carroll. ( who played his wingman)in the next plane and gave him a thumbs up. His wingman returned the thumbs up vigorously and John and his squadron rolled out onto the grass field and took off side by side over the heads of the happy coolies working in the rice fields of China. John and his friends where on their way to save China from the Japanese. That moment of thumbs up seemed to me, as a boy, to symbolize those few men, smart and heroic enough to have earned the right to fly the finest of machines, the fighter plane. For the rest of my childhood the heroes of the world were John Wayne and my brother and anyone else with wings on a leather jacket. That became the only thing that I ever wanted to do. I couldn't wait to graduate from high school and join the elite cadets who were one day going to have wings on their chest. Mom and Dad, who had already worried through one son flying airplanes were not at all supportive of having another son in the Air Corps. By the time that battle was fought to its conclusion the Air Force was no longer accepting applications for cadet training and the window of opportunity closed. The Atlas Missile program and then the Mercury Space Program came along and I had enough satisfaction from being part of that to gradually see my dream of a flying career slip away first to the back burner and then off the stove completely. Soon I had a wife and then children. The dream of flying became some lessons in a Mooney Air Coupe at Spirit of St. Louis Airfield right across from Kratz field where Bill got his start in '43. Lessons were expensive for a guy with two kids and flying an Aircoupe with the canopy back was not fulfilling the fantasy. Years went by, many years. John Wayne and the Flying Tigers became just an unfulfilled childhood dream remembered vaguely at air shows and flying movies with the kids. Then in 1981 I read about a new kind of flying. New technology had made what started as a motorized hangglider in to a real flying machine. The aircraft looked much like the Curtis Pusher of 1910- 1920 era. Light but extremely strong fabrics and aluminum tubing had created an aircraft that weighed less than 300 lb. powered by an engine that could create a rate of climb of 1500 ft. per minute. Full controls had been developed giving three axis flight. Rudder, aileron, elevator. The pilot sat in the open like the early Curtis. I decided to go for it. While I was taking my lessons I met a man who flew dive bombers in W.W.II and had spent most of his life as a test pilot for Douglas Aircraft and a commercial pilot. He told me one day, "don't regret the adventure you think you missed. Flying stopped being flying a long time ago. Flying became the act of managing an aircraft" which to him was not flying. He said "Have you ever noticed those tiny windows in modern aircraft"? That's because flying has become something done inside the aircraft with instruments and communications. The modern pilot is not looking out his windows experiencing the joy of flying. He said that was I was learning to do now was more flying than many get in a lifetime. Sitting on a seat, under a wing, with full controls acting and reacting to the elements is the essence of flight. He had a beautiful new ultralight with a ballistic rocket parachute which could be deployed in an emergency to bring pilot and plane down safely. So I practiced and learned and finally soloed. The next day I was back out at the field to build up my solo time. My friend was also at the field getting used to his new plane. He came over as I was pre-flightiness my aircraft and suggested that we take a little flight together. Our aircraft were parked side by side on the field. We both climbed aboard. Merl started his engine as did I. We both pulled on our helmets and goggles. A quick control check stick back and forth, right and left, full rudder right and left, engine advance and then back to idle. Merl pulled his goggles down and into place and then looked over to me. He reached out with a gloved hand and then extended his right hand thumb extended indicating his readiness to taxi. I extended my hand and returned a thumbs up to indicate that my dream was, after 50 years, about to become reality. We brought up the throttles and taxied side by side out onto the grass field. As one we advanced our throttles and side by side we moved down the field rapidly picking up speed. Our planes became light, with a slight bounce of wheels we were airborne. We cleared the edge of the field rising toward the setting sun. I looked down to the fields richly bathed in the early evening light. For just a fleeting moment I was sure I could see the coolies waving from the rice fields as we climbed wing to wing for one last battle with the Empire of the Sun.
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Scav Meets God Message 179 Tue Dec 14, 1993 T.NAUGHTON [SCAVENGER] at 03:14 EST
To: BLUEBARON [BB at Kesmai]
To raise a hue and cry over something that, at worst, is an odd quirk, - and which has no useful application to combat, is in neither of our - best interests. I wouldnt be so sure it has no useful application to combat. I followed MD and Dustys instructions to the letter. As I came through the cumulus and 52,000 there on top of the cloud layer were DD and Wolfman trying to unravel a snarl in the telephone cables connecting their aircraft. At 70,000 I found a woman at a giant spinning wheel weaving the great net. It spun invisibly down over the airwarrior terrain. Each time she carded the fabric I could see warps arcing out from the wheel toward the nodes. Finally at 150,000 ft a great golden light shown on the perspex of my canopy. I saw orange sunbeams dancing across the land below from the great southern sun. A fine castle appeared to sit on clouds of cotton. At the gates sat an Arc Angel and behind him all the books of Air Warrior knowledge guarded by a Roman Centurion. Rows of writings and diagrams by the aces of history. Boxes of sound files, views, hand-crafted joysticks. Stacks and stacks of 486DX66s. I glided slowly to a stop in front of the Angel. My heart pounded as I realized I had found the source of all knowledge and rewards in Air Warrior. I climbed onto the wing and was about approach the treasure. The great angel stood and walked over to my plane. He reached out to me. In awe I extended my hand in greeting. The angel reached past my extended hand gathering my plane into the folds of his magnificent robes. With a small smile he crushed the wings and flung us over the edge of the cloud and down into the void. As I fell from the heavens, my plane and I wrapped in our dive of death. I uttered one last question: ...................Dok, ...........Why?.....> Because, my son....................... You...people down there..... piss... me... off.
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Fri Sep 17, 1993 T.NAUGHTON [SCAVENGER] at 01:40 EDT
After reading thru the comm.commands it appeared some revision was in order for those of us who are new to AW. DWEEB.COMM Manuevers:
B-Bail Out Now
R-Bail Out to the Right
L-Bail Out to the Left
D-Push the Stick like Device Forward
S-Split,Leave,Run,Escape,Book,Boogie,Bug Out
L-Pull the Stick Like Thing Backward Until Things look Again Like ' They Do Now.
C-Cover Your Eyes It will be over in a moment
+-Climb Up on Your Seat to Bail Out
*-Spiral Notebooks are good for Taking Notes Engagement Coordination
O-Out (Out,Out,Out as in Hurry Up and Bail Out)
I-In (as in stay in your aircraft you are drawing their fire away from us)
N-On ( Turn the engine on)
T-Take (your finger off the trigger when I am in front of you)
U-You $%#%^#$ shot me down
M-me As in Do Not Shoot Me
W-we (As in We who are about to die salute you)
O-see (ok, they are gone now. You can uncover your eyes)
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Fri Jan 14, 1994 T.NAUGHTON [SCAVENGER] at 21:06 EST
(reprinted from the tactics topic with permission of the family of FL.Arnold Scaveneger. FL.)
Scaveneger's body was found next to the burned out wreckage of his Bf109 late Thursday Jan 13th 1944. He was shot down over B-36 while engaging FW190A8s in preperation for BOG. A badly charred map was found in his hand, next to his compass. It appeared he had ripped the compass from his instrument panel and was smashing it against the canopy when he augered. This message was all that was left of his radio: "The vectors and the sectors made me listen in the mission. But the Hun in the sun was the name of the game."
Epolouge
The SCAVENGER Remembered, Terry Naughton (Scavenger) died, suddenly and unexpectedly, just a few months after he was inducted into the Turkey Ham squad. But not before he became known throughout Air Warrior as the man who spoke so eloquently from the heart and shared the fun, the wisecracks, the tremendous egos so easily spoofed and the hidden dreams that many of us live out through the toughest and greatest air combat simulation ever created. Air Warrior had never seen a guy like Scav. There won't be another. He loved this game but he loved something even more. He loved the company of other dreamers. He loved the camaraderie, the boasting, the passion and the friendship. Scav thought we were just about the best bunch of idiots he'd ever met in his all-too-brief life. He was right. We are. It was.
Slug *TH*
-
Originally posted by Arrow:
Epilouge
The SCAVENGER Remembered, Terry Naughton (Scavenger) died, suddenly and unexpectedly, just a few months after he was inducted into the Turkey Ham squad. But not before he became known throughout Air Warrior as the man who spoke so eloquently from the heart and shared the fun, the wisecracks, the tremendous egos so easily spoofed and the hidden dreams that many of us live out through the toughest and greatest air combat simulation ever created. Air Warrior had never seen a guy like Scav. There won't be another. He loved this game but he loved something even more. He loved the company of other dreamers. He loved the camaraderie, the boasting, the passion and the friendship. Scav thought we were just about the best bunch of idiots he'd ever met in his all-too-brief life. He was right. We are. It was.
Slug *TH*
<salute>
-
sheesh... now their dragging out poor ol scavs bones and rattling them around.
lazs
-
Originally posted by lazs1:
sheesh... now their dragging out poor ol scavs bones and rattling them around.
lazs
Reading Scav's posts is better and more enlightening than anything you have to say <shrugs>.
-
undoubtably... so why don't you just point to the spot where they can be read?
lazs
-
Originally posted by lazs1:
undoubtably... so why don't you just point to the spot where they can be read?
lazs
Because Montezuma knows it pisses off the likes of you to post them here hehehehe. Get over it monkey and go furball to your heart's content.
-
All this AW talk brought back too many fond memories. Had to load up the old Amiga version. Here's a link:
look for Airwarrior v2.9c (http://wuarchive.wustl.edu/~aminet/dirs/game_misc.html)
Of course you'll need an Amiga Emulator or an Amiga.
-
At first when I read my nice little letter from EA.com, my first thought was...
Another Tear falls from heaven...
Someone posted on the AW boards a thread titled "A Tear Falls From Heaven" referencing to Scav... This was posted when EA decided they couldn't afford the volunteer help in the game any longer...
Today... I bet Scav has a great cheshire cat grin on his mug...
EA.com Shot themselves in the foot...
And we are all in another game, A Game that is everything that we wanted AW to be... We are together having fun, laughing, cutting up, cutting down, and ridiculing each other...
Scavengers Spirit Lives in Aces High...
<salute Terry>
BOOT
-
Damn Boot, well said and well done <S>
-
<S> Scav.
We'll never forget ewe.....
-W
-
Thanks for posting that Arrow. Did you save the secret photo of LPN?
...
Today in the Spam-Hole we have something unpleasant.
A LUFTWHINE BEFORE ITS TIME:
This luftwhiner has picked a charming name for him self. My favorite part is where he threatens to go play another game with ‘unfavortisum’ like Fighter Duel. I bet this guy plays AH now, I wonder which of the luftwhiners he is?
>>>
From: nazi (nazi@abcs.com)Subject: Fake AW World Newsgroups: alt.games.air-warrior
Date: 1996/02/19
Anyway, the reason I don't play Air Warrior is because I don't
like handicapping.... Those people who take out the me262 ave a
billion excuses... here are some of them.....
"well it upsets the ballance of the game"
"who cares, they didn't make that many or fly that many of em in the
real war".... I could go n but.. for one if it upset the ballance that
much then we would have lost the war back in 1945... another is
the numbers used in the war... sure they was low, and they did,t use
massive numbers...they made like over a 1000 of them, and used a lot
less... so they take it out of the main theater...bulls--t... there
wasn't that many Ki-84's and N1k! georges used in Japan, but they are
sure included in Air Warrior.... some of the whine babies cry about
certain planes... so they're gone..
[edit HO rant]
You know there are 10-15 guys that play on this Air Warrior muliti
player on CRIS Delpi gENI etc.. they all brag about themselfs,, and
call newcommers "DWEEBS"... it's like they are saying to those so
called dweebs.. you have been playing a game... and you are not used
to how a REAL plane flies....
Making the me262 accelertate slower would ake it less lethal.. and
giving it at 40% fuel load would make it more althentic (Germany was
starving for fuel).. but then again who cares.....
Once someone makes a online-net multi-player (who isn't Japanses
funded and requests the best Japanses aircraft have 100 mph speed
added to make him look good) simulator that is the most althentic it
can be for the time and has no wimp hadicaping... EVERYONE but the
whine baby sisies will be playing it... no giving one country the
best of thier best and giving the other countries the middle of the
road stuff... it's either all have avg or all have the best they had
when the war ended....no hicken toejam favortisum for one country
because they like it better.
Thats why I don't play the FAKE game... I am not the whine
baby... I have never played it on CRIS-Delphi-gENI etc and got killed
and making excuses.. I know Iwould be no good at the FAKE game....
Call me names like you wish... and I hope you all have fun.
I knwo for a fact, that (maybe fighter duel[WW2 Online, Il2]) when a unfavortisum flight-sim is made to play multi player,, none of the people playing this fake AW will be used to the real world, and having someone handicap it for them ...and I guarrentee none of them will be able to take me (or some of those so calles dweebs) down in a one on one dogfight....
I hope none of those tweezer necks get mad at me,,, I'm real scard
of em... GULP!
NAZI
>>>>>
-
[
Once someone makes a online-net multi-player (who isn't Japanses
funded and requests the best Japanses aircraft have 100 mph speed
added to make him look good)
Man do I remember that. Bulletproof zekes with laser cannons. It didn't last long , but there was a short period of uber zekes and the whinin (mine included) was deafening ;)
-
Spam hole presents:
1994 AW Con report by Voss. AH, WB, and WW2OL players might recognize attendees...
>>>
The '94 Con
...was in D.C., organized by Moggy (this was before he was @kesmai).
It was also the last Con before the community was sundered by the
creationof CK/WB.
Anyway, it was REAL late on Saturday night. Everyone still up was in
various stages of inebriation, ranging from really to drooling
incapacitation.
Snail gets it into his head that we should go into the HT Pac arena
(this was when the NR guys still flew HT) and close A:14, the main A
airfield. This required landing 72 bombs on the strip within 5
minutes.
Well we all thought this was a fabulous idea, one of the ongoing
entertainments that weekend was torturing the HT dweebs in every way
possible. Wolfie (who really is attached at the hip to Dead Duck, you
never see the two more than 5 feet apart) had us all in tears earlier
that day by going to a busy HT airfield, organizing the dweebs into
going with him on a mission, then taking a 17 and dropping the bombs
the instant everyone took off. Of course, he and they would all be
killed, and end up back in the ready room. They'd all start asking
what the hell had happened, people were guessing that there were FPs
or something outside...this went on for like twenty minutes, every
time they went up he'd take the 17 and blow them all
up again. People were literally on the floor in tears laughing.
Snail is like an amazing character. Really big guy, if you ever meet
him, do NOT shake his hand unless you put on steel-reinforced gloves
first. Also real animated, an animation that grows exponentially as he
drinks. By three AM, he's always telling these great jokes, but you
unless you have a death wish you stand no closer than 6 feet- as the
telling involves lots of arm-swinging and body gyrations that could
easily dent the armor on an M1A1.
So we start assembling ourselves on the machines around the room. I'm
on DD's machine, and he has the sound card routed into this like 500
megawatt amp, driving these obscenely large speakers and a
gut-wrenching sub-woofer. This would turn out to be VERY key.
Winchester, my buddy from Raleigh, is nine sheets to the wind-
completely unable to do anything useful but sit next to me and gabber
in this pseudo-english- you know, the kind that involves no
consonants.
Assassin is gunning for me. As I looked around the room, I just had to
grin. The guys driving the 17's were all legends. Hitech was sitting
next to Snail, across the room from me. There was Kite, Grok, Twist,
Killer, Cal, NoBaddy...a few others were gunning.
We take off, and start our climbout, and everyone is just yelling and
joking and throwing stuff back and forth across the room. Snail is in
prime form- he can barely sit in his seat for more than 5 seconds
before he stands up and starts yelling all sorts of directions that
everyone is patently ignoring- like this crew needs any directions on
how to do anything. Then, bad guys start coming over and sniffing out
what all these markers are doing in one sector. Every time a bad guy
even crosses into our sector, Snail stands up and starts flailing his
arms about, pulling his hair, and screaming "WE'RE ALL GONNA
DIEEEEEE!!!!!" I nearly fell out of m seat laughing when I looked
across at him- Snail was funny enough, but what was really cracking me
up was watching Dale (HT), the ever-phegmatic engineer,
who was just sitting calmy in his seat, cigarette hanging out of the
corner of his mouth, and looking up at Snail with this massively
sarcastic "what the %^&* is your problem?!?" look.
I found a job for 'Chester- I told him every time I yell "ENGAGEMENT
VOLUME!", he's to turn this little volume nobby thing on the amp.
Which I did, every time a bad guy got within guns range. He'd crank
the volume to 7 or so, Assassin would start blasting away, I'd start
screaming "AHHOOGA AHHOOOOGA DIVE DIVE DIVE DIVE" - all the while,
DD's stereo is cranking decibels high enough to shatter glass.
After some tribulations, we're closing on A:14, amazingly enough we're
still in formation. Snail is losing it completely, he's frothing at
the mouth, still screaming though he's lost his voice completely, and
the directions themselves have lost any semblance of meaning.
Finally, we're doors open, I'm in the bombsight, everyone is yelling,
and I grab 'Chester, shake him a bit, look him in the eyes and yell
"MAXIMUM ENGAGMENT VOLUME!!!" He cranks the amp to 10...bombs
away...everyone is calling bomb drops...then the bombs start hitting.
Folks, we're talking 80 some-odd bombs smashing into A:14, and DD's
stero is so loud that the tables are shaking...the WALLS are
shaking....all you can hear is BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM...it
seemed to go on forever, and what little part of my brain that was
still functional was wondering at what point the SWAT team is going to
come bursting through the door to stop what can only be a massive
terrorist attack.
Best thing was, we DID it;-) As far as we could tell, every single
bomb had gone straight down the center of the strip. An hour or so of
laughing later, we all stumbled off to bed, ears ringing, hair
standing on end. Was cool.
Voss
>>>
-
DoKtor GonZo, OrIgInaL CaMpEr!
>>>
THE BLOOD PIG
This was going to be great: two gunned F/A-26's attacking A3.
TANGO CIRCUS (aka TC) was piloting the first ship, with DoK as his gunner. Flush Garden was piloting the second, with Cap'n Trips gunning.
They launched from C2 and set course around the Westward mountain and a shallow climb. They wanted to be at about 3000 feet when they came around the mountain and the A's saw them. All went according to plan - they turned the corner and enterred the Valley of Death at exactly 3000 feet. The could see that the A's were just about off of radar to the North. They were starting a large raid on B-land. A3 was practically undefended.
"Lets go," TC said ... and started the F/A-26 down. Both ships quickly gathered speed and A3 was coming up fast.
"I'll take the West ack, you take the East," TC called over the radio to Flush. Flush responded with a quick "rgr."
A3 was now in sight, they could make out the dots where the acks were. "All guns forward," DoK called. TC and Flush were on their bomb runs and it would be up to the gunners to suppress planes taking off until the ack was killed. Trips and DoK jumped to their lower turrets and tracked the A3 take-off spot.
Both ships were now just about at the release point when a Zero appeared at A3. "FIRE," DoK yelled. Trips and DoK opened up at the edge of their range at the Zeke which had just started to taxi. They saw hits on the plane just as TC and Flush both called "Bombs away" and pulled up into chandelles to avoid the AAA.
In quick succession the kill messages for the two ack-acks and the lone Zeke appeared on the screen. A set of "HAR!"'s errupted on the radio as the F/A-26's cranked around to land. This was the tricky part. The pilots had to land in direct line about 150 yards behind the take-off spot. They were vulnerable during this stage because they were going too slow to manouever much.
TC and Flush dropped flaps and gear and executed break turns to get into the right pattern. TC touched down first and hit the brakes, Flush was down seconds later. As they inched their way up to the "sweet spot" behind the runway, that same Zero appeared again. The gunners openned up first and killed him in seconds.
By now both planes were side-by-side behind the A3 take-off spot. All turrets were aimed forward, plus the pilot's guns. That made 24 .50 calibre machine guns bore-sighted down the runway.
The A's were starting to die up at B1, so soon they would be trying to take off. The crews of the F/A-26's waited impatiently. But not for long. Soon A's started popping up from the take-off spot. They must have been deciding on a plan inside the field. All guns openned up and the A's dropped like turds out the back of a galloping horse.
Being A's, they kept trying to take off. And they kept getting shot down. Usually before getting 100 yards down the runway. A few started trying to turn off the tarmac the instant they got on the field. This got them out from in front of the main guns, but the turrets then followed them and they were soon quickly killed.
The A's tried taking up a B17 with a tail gunner, but it was no match for the firepower of 2 A26's. The A's now started screaming on the radio about what was happening at their base. This just made the folks in the F/A-26's break out into hysterical laughter. A3 was now in complete turmoil. Planes were dying on the runway almost as fast as they appeared, the few that managed to escape the runway were struggling to stay aloft long enough to get a shot at the two F/A-26's before the gunners did them in.
The A's did eventually hit on the idea of taking off from some field other than A3 and attacking the parked bombers from above. But decades of inbreeding caused them to auger in during their firing runs before being able to register a fatal hit. And, of course, it never occured to them to bring bombs.
Ammunition was now running low, and it looked like a good time to try to break for home. So TC and Flush cranked up their engines. As they sped along gathering speed, they noticed that the planes would not get off the ground. The wings had taken so much dmage, that they were now useless.
"Damn, wings shot to toejam," TC said.
"Looks like we drive home," DoK replied.
So the two F/A-26's reduced throttle and started driving back to C2. It was a long drive, but they had plenty of fuel and many, many scalps to get back to base with. A few A's tried to follow, but most fell to either the top turret gunners or to their own galactic stupidity.
It took almost 20 minutes, but eventually the two newly christened "Blood Pigs" made it back to base. The four pilots and gunners were all laughing so hard over the devestation and chaos they had caused, they had to log off for half an hour to collect themselves.
Once tanks and FlakPanzers came onto the scene, BloodPigging became far less prevalent. Once in a while you'll still see one - usually parked on a carrier, waiting for an unsuspecting dweeb in a Zeke to take off.
>>>
-
Oh yeah :)
-
Spandau flys in BIGWEEK and reaches an altered state.
>>>
From: Brian Nolen (briann@cyberlynk.comm)
Subject: Bigweek Debreif, 6/12/97
This is another after action report from the Bigweek training sessions.
It's been about 20-30 minutes since I logged off the site. I'm still
shaking.... Got in on the first try. I'd copied down the locations of the
Messcherschmitt units, hoping that I'd see one of those on the breifing
map. No, I wound up in a FW unit again. The only reason that I didn't log
out and try again was the breifing officer. Moggy. For the chance to fly
with Moggs, I would gladly put up with with a damn Focke Wulf.
The breifing room watermelon chat was mostly focused on beer, and Moggy's lack of
same... His name for our gruppen, Die Sheiskophs. Somehow appropriate...
If we were actualy flying according to the scenario notes, as we were
supposed to, we were III/Jg11, armed with FW-190a4 butcher birds.
Time lagged on and on, delay after delay waiting for the order to launch.
Anxiety was rising in me each passing minute. At 7:30 local I was going to
have to log so that I could use my phone for a long distance tuck in of my
kids. Finaly came the announcement, "Allied Fighters Launch", and after
ten minutes of eternity we got the go ahead.
Engine on! tune radio to channel 999, begin take off roll, pitchup, tuck
gears, climb! We were aloft, winging to do battle with the enemys of the
Fatherland! The roar of my wingmate's engines was loud in my ears, the
rumble of my own radial a feeling in the bones more than a sound.
It was a long climbout to the coast, and a turn to follow it. Before the
first allied counters appeard, there were 68 Luftwaffe counters up. How
many of the 110s carried gunners I have no idea. I guessing that we had
maybe 70 to 80 people up for Luftwaffe. About half way to the coast, the
first Allied counters began to appear on the extreme zoomout of dar.
Three, four, and still we climbed, headed west. We came to the coast, the
channel was clogged with enemy counters. Sixty five, all within a few
sectors of each other. III/Jg11 was part of the vanguard, the spearhead,
the shield of the Reich!
We turned south west along the coast, the Allied counters creping closer.
We got to a sector line and turned west. Suddenly, Moggy announced dar
contact with a Mustang. My pulse began to quicken. This is it. Battle
was about to be joined! We were several hundred, maybe a thousand feet
higher than the escorts. Before long, dar began to be overwhelmed with
light blue notes of P51s and P47s.
The cold chill of terror crept into my bones. I've never seen that many
enemy aircraft in one place ever before. How would I survivve long enough
to make a run on a buff! Well, no time like the present. "Tally-ho! In we
go!" I shouted over the radio. I rolled my bird, and put her into a dive
toward the allied formation. An american pilot, vdnsr, by his CPID was the
first to fall. Then Baldi, another yank must have ripped a wing, he
crashed, or was dumped. I redded out, then came to. Moggy was hit, going
down in flames. Then I spotted two B17s flying close. I hade huge amounts
of speed, and overtook them. Pinged both in my pass and continued on.
Lined up on another buff, bullets from enemy bombers impacting onto my
airframe. My guns spoke again, and again. WHAM!!! The left wing of the
B17 snapped off at mid-wing in a horrific fireball. KILL! No time to
announce it, there were too damn many people around me with Stars on their
birds. I banked left and climbed, another bomber, 500 yards away. I fired
again, closing the gap, my cannons making the airframe shudder, scrubbing
speed off her. WHAM WHAM WHAM the impact of .50 cal shells hitting my
bird. Then my engine explodes into flames and I'm spinning from the fight.
Cockpit jammed, flames all around. Can't bail out. Every pilots worst
nightmare. My altitude is dropping fast, flames are starting to come into
the cockpit with me, the cockpit is still jammed. My flight suit begins to
smoulder, I feel the heat charring my flesh. There is but one thing left
to do. I fumble the Webbley revolver from its holster, a gift from my
cousin in the Wermacht, a souvenier of Dunkirk. I thumb back the hammer,
muzzle to my temple.....courage, courage, pull the trigger. PULL THE
TRIGGER! Damnit! Pull the trigger! BANG
To drop out of character for a bit. I've never been so scared as when I
saw half my display light up with allied fighter icons. Not even when I
was robbed while working at a 7-11 one night. I have no idea what my pulse
got up to, well into three digits per minute I figure. Cold chills were
running up and down my spine, my resperation was off the scale, and I would
have been hyperventelating before long. Then "CLICK" this is why you're
here, do your job. There was no room for terror, it was down to business.
No amount of arena fighting ever prepares you for the first sighting of the
enemy in a scenario situation. I hit that altered state. I _was_ in the
cockpit of a FW190a4. It's well over an hour later now, and I still have
the aftereffects of the adrenelin. It came as a shock when I saw the kill
recorded message, but since I didn't see an explosion, I have to assume
that Jill^ was dumped. Not even a chute like you see against offline
drones. She just wasn't there anymore. No amount of arena fighting can
prepare you for the sudden shock of being shot down, just when you are
about to triumph over another foe. At the range I was firing, watching the
tracers go into the silouette, I had to have been damaging her enough to
make her easy meat for another pilot later.
Zippo, if you're reading this, I salute your gunnery skill. (CPID Zipp@ if
I recall correctly)
To my fellows in the Flying Tigers, WWI on AOL, SEE WHAT YOU'RE MISSING?
(For those of u in the newgroups, they get my breifing room capture, and
the .cam file of the fight. Even if it take a long time to load up at
14.4... Ain't E-mail wunnerful?) Rationaly, I knew I was dead when I
watched the tape, and I was the only German in the middle of the bomber
stream. All those light blue "L"s denoting bombers, one white cross that
was my FW on the dar. I got the second German kill, and was the second
German killed, after Moggy. (I think)
It was exhilerating, to say the least! I can't wait for the real thing! I
won't even mind being saddled up in a 190. At least under partial
realisim, under FR, I'd have augered several thousand feet at least twice
on climbout...
And the best thing about dying, was the timing. Just about when I would
have had to log to call my wife and kids... things work out...
I take this opportunity to salute those I flew with.
Moggy, a legend of the game. RocketMan, nice to fly beside you instead of
in front of you. Trips, whom I only knew by reputation till now. Mayhem, if
you're the same chap I've flown beside on AOL, you did our B land pilots
proud today. Runs from drones, Runny, we're on opposite sides in the
areana, glad to wing with you for a change. Root, Kid, VeeJay, I've never
met you before today, I think that I shall remember you for years to come.
Midnight Sam Spade, one of the pilots actualy from Germany, it was a
pleasure to meet you here, after meeting you last time in an Allied
breifing room...
To all my fellow Luftwaffe pilots, to all the worthy foes of the 8th Air
Force...<<SALUTE>> and there's no way to do that salute justice without
resorting to a post that would print it in at least 20point letters, and
totaly bugger anyone with a newsreader that don't support that stuff.
Now, on to the real Bigweek. LET'S GET IT ON!!!!!!!!!
Brian Nolen
SpandauFT
--
Brian Nolen
SpandauFT (SpnFT-AOL)
Spandau (Spand-AWII)
>>>
-
Today, self-admitted dweeb MOSCA (currently augering somewhere in Aces High) joins the ACCS squad and gets his first kill.
>>>
MOSCA BREAKS HIS CHERRY:
Well, there's a story to this one, but honestly I'm just too excited to
make it up. However, about a month ago I made the bold promise to BLAST
THE NAME of MOSCA'S FIRST KILL on alt.games.air-warrior, and also on
bigweek.general. (I also promised cam footage at www.epix.net/~tholts, (http://www.epix.net/~tholts,)
but unfortunately that will not be there, because 1) I changed ISPs to
get lower delays and 2) I forgot to turn my gun cam on.)
One cannot make such a bold prediction and then continue to buzz around
like a... fly, constantly bothering everyone without delivering on the
promise, so I've kept my keyboard quiet, done a lot of offline practice,
read a lot, & gotten shot down a lot. I've purposely avoided bigweek,
you guys are more of a veterans group & I respect your posts that read
like nautilus shells, clauses within clauses dwelling on ever smaller
minutae until someone like homer or Sluggo (JackG0504; I got the handle
right this time) busts them apart with a well-placed salvo. But now I am
here.
Anyhow, after stumbling around for almost 3 months, I got an e-mail from
a person known as "Gnatz", who invited me to fly informally with a group
known around these parts as the "ACCS".
(Cut to mosca coming home for dinner. The family is sitting around the
table.)
DAD: You're late.
MOSCA: You know I gotta work late on Sundays. (He sits down & starts
shoveling spaghetti into his mouth.)
MOM: Working on Sunday, it's a sin, mosca. And slow down your eating.
Don't you like my dinner?
DAD: You heard your mother! Slow down! (He reaches over & hits mosca's
hair)
MOM: NO HITTING AT THE DINNER TABLE!
MOSCA: I gotta hurry. I'm flying with a buncha guys tonight down at
[CENSORED]. (a secret base deep in c-land)
DAD: [CENSORED]? Isn't that where that sheep cult hangs out?
MOSCA: It's not a cult, Pop. They're like a gang of really cool guys,
y'know, and....
MOM: A GANG? NO SON OF MINE IS GOING TO JOIN A GANG! OHH, NO, A GANG!
OH, MOSCA, WHAT
WOULD YOUR GRANDMOTHER SAY IF SHE FOUND OUT?
DAD: ITS THE ACCS, ISN'T IT? I BET THEY'RE A BUNCH OF NICE GUYS! I BET
THEY TOLD YOU THEY'D
TEACH YOU ANIMAL HUSBANDRY! THEY'RE JUST GOING TO USE YOU FOR
THEIR OWN PLEASURE
AND LEAVE YOU IN THE GUTTER WITH A BAD CASE OF SCRAPIE! (He
reaches over and really slaps
mosca's hair again)
MOSCA: He hit my hair! I work a long time on my hair and what does he
do? He hits it! You don't understand! All you ever
do is criticize everything....
Well, you get the picture. That's the only part that I can get to come
out. The rest of it's just stuck. Sorry.
Anyhow, after missing a couple of appointments with Gnatz & Wedgie & the
rest of the crew, I caught up with them last night. I did a lot of
clueless stumbling around, as usual, and finally set my machine on
autopilot & read the part in the manual about how to use the radio (page
96) so's I could hunt'n'peck out a simple "hey, gnatz" (I think it was
"mbaaa"), & we all met at [CENSORED]. At which time I was given an
assignment, a real mission!
I mean lets face it, being a lone newbie in FR is like walking around
unarmed in a bad part of town, looking to pick a fight with the toughest
bullies you can find. Virtually speaking, of course. It's nice to have
some pals to show you how to navigate.
So I get the assignment to take a Hog to, I dunno, some airfield
somewhere, & take out the ack & then just generally keep the place under
submission until, I dunno, until something else happens, I don't know
what, just follow the other guys I guess, & do what they do & act like I
know what I'm doing too; Hey, the Az don't know, I might be a ringer,
right? Just look tough! Anyhow, what's a Hog? Oh. A Corsair. OK. And I
gotta learn, "cc", not "ok".
About halfway there, I wonder where top speed is, & with <esc>a I find
out I have a bomb on board. I'm starting to understand what the plan is
now.
Well, I know most of you've done this stuff thousands of times before,
but it's still all new to me. I follow these guys into this place, the
ack's supposed to be at a refinery, it looks like it's on the other side
of this mountain I see, but I don't think any of us hit it because the
flak is just BOOMING all around me, & I drop the egg & hit the WEP &
pull up to the left over this mountain....
And it looks like some one kicked a hornet's nest, with all these planes
swarming all over! Check the icon colors! Who's who?
There! Red! Oh, man, overshot 'im! Throttle back. Turn. Watch the stall.
Check 6. Check 6 again. Throttle up. Where'd they go? Oh. Everybody's at
6. Immel up? Stall! Catch it, ya dweeb. Spiral, right rudder... there.
And oh, man! right in front of me, at maybe 1000 yards, is an Me109 just
clawing for altitude! But it's just not there for him. He looks like
he's hanging helplessly from the sky on a string, and his belly turns
toward me as I slow down so's not to overshoot & of course get more time
in the saddle, and at just about point blank that Messerschmidt just
goes BOOM! right in front of me! HAAAIIIIIYAAAH! LETS HEAR IT FOR EYE
CANDY!
But there's no time to rejoice! Quick check 6, & up top too for that
matter. There's another! Squeeze.... BOOM! I LOVE IT! TWO FOR TWO, BABY!
(Later I found that I wasn't credited with that one. So what. It felt
like I hit it, so to me, I did.) Circle round, right wing down, look at
the field.... Oh BAY-BEE! Two on the runway! Oh, I been stuck like that
before, payback's a squeak, honey, here comes daddy to even the score....
Of course, here is where eternal dweebdom reasserted itself, as MOSCA
proceeded to auger himself into the runway just ahead of the lead FW. I
just hope he wasn't laughing too hard to take off; but if he was
laughing as hard as I was that guy didn't have a prayer.
I went back to [CENSORED] and got another egg, but morning comes awfully
early around the mosca household & time was running out for fun & games,
& I was really just too excited to get back into it & do it right, &
this time the flak got me. But hey,
>GDI< ,
I saw your Messerschmidt in my dreams all night last night. Thanks.
mosca
>>>
-
Thanks for the posts. Great stuff :)
-
'Feel the Hate!'
Here, slug discusses mastering your Hate.
>>>
Hate?!? You can't handle the Hate!
By: Slug
Chris Johnson wrote:
> I'm curious if anybody else has >experienced this Hate-induced loss
> of skill, and whether there are others out there who try to avoid Hate for
> pragmatic reasons?
>
> Jinx_tigr
> (aka Chris Johnson)
You can be forgiven for your semantic obfuscation and lack of coherent ontological
perspective.
<<Slug-trans: "what a goober.">>
You have confused anger with hate. It's hard to function intellectually when
you're pissed off. (Know how I know? <G> ) In fact hard to function any-way when you're
angry. Hate is not anger. Anger is an emotional response to real or perceived stimuli.
Hate is an orientation - a way of interpreting information that then shapes the type of
response - not the response itself.
DoK was the master of hate. Many others have come and gone - some have mastered hate -
others have tried and failed.
Here's an example:
ANGER: "I will chase that bastard in the F4 down in my Zero cuz he whacked me while
taking off from the field. I dunno who he is but I'll get him - even though I have no
ammo, no E, no alt and no diddlying hope. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"
HATE: "Ahhh....I see Slug is in the arena. I have studied his usual routine. I know what
airfield he flies from and which plane. I know his favorite merge maneuver. He has
offended me and shall pay mercilessly. I will hunt him coldly and methodically -
turning his Air Warrior time into a living, dying hell from which there is no escape.
And I will smile as I watch him explode in front of my hungry guns."
Does this make sense, Goober? Did I type it s-l-o-w-l-y enough so even you could
understand? Have you always been a butt-munch? Or do you just "play" one on TV? Nice
shirt, by the way. Do you occasionally wear men's clothing for a change of pace?
Hoohahahah...... Muhahahahahah Let the Slug hating/hunting begin!
Slug -=*TH*=-
DoKtor of Hatology
Butt Munchus Emeritus
>>>
-
Slug is guud
-
Keep these posts comming, I love reading this stuff.
I hope AH lasts long enough to build its own "mythology". By the looks of things it certainly will.
J_A_B
-
Someone posted GE's picture of the 'Blood Dragon' in another thread.
>>>
THE STORY OF THE BLOOD DRAGON
By DoK
One bright and sunny day, a newcomer came to B-land. His name was Ben Dover. He was truely a merry fellow who took great delight in stomping on the heads of kittens with big lumberjack boots, twisting at the ankle until the little feline brains came gooshing out.
In any event, on this particular day GCB Biggles was engaged in running bombing raids down to old A3 (in the Valley of Death). Ben pleaded with Biggles to let him pilot the B17 once and eventually Biggles agreed, if for no other reason that to get some peace. Biggles had flown well so far, the AA guns at A3 were down and the A's were in a foul mood. Ben called for gunners and several signed on. With hearts high, Ben taxied the B17 off into destiny.
Biggles knew something was up when Ben did a crisp vertical banked turn to A3 right on takeoff, milking up the flaps and landing gear as he completed the turn. "I've been practicing offline", said Ben with a slight smirk. Biggles wasn't completely satisfied, but decided to just let it drop. Ben climbed the B17 to around 1000 feet and settled into a standard target approach. The A's then picked him up on radar.
"Hang on to your asses, here we go.", hollered Ben. With which he barreled down to the deck, levelling off at about 10 feet. Ben was having great fun lopping the heads off cattle and Jehovas Witnesses as he sped along at naught altitude. The A's were greatly miffed and showed their displeasure by augering dead astern of Ben's B17.
Now they were approaching A3. A-land fighters were crashing left and right, unaccustomed to pursuit at such low altitudes. "Someone get into the chin turret and shoot the one on the pad!", ordered Ben. "Won't get enough hits for a kill", shouted one of the gunners. "Trust me", said Ben. As they crossed the fence the B17 shuddered lightly as Ben loosed one stick of bombs on the empty take-off spot of A3. Just then several A fighters appeared, the chin gunner started firing furiously.
"Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom" went the bombs. "XXXX detroyed, YYYY destroyed, ZZZZ destroyed" came the messages from the host. "3 kills!", hollered the chin gunner. "Bombed em," said Ben, "all gunners aim left over the wing." At that moment Ben racked the B17 into a tight, tight, tight maximum performance pylon turn over the takeoff spot of A3. He was at 250 feet with flaps down and pulling around 3 G's at 80 knots.
The A's kept popping up, but the massive fire of 4 B17 turrets dispatched most of them before they could even get airborne. The few that did, even Zero's, found they could not keep on the tail of the B17 before the gunners laid waste to them. "Keep shooting!", ordered Ben. Round and round they went, Ben holding the turn by using the amazing autopilot feature of the B17. Indeed, Ben's rigorous flight testing had discovered that at low altitude with everything hanging, the B17 under autopilot could turn tighter and at lower speeds that a Zero under manual control.
The A's were finally starting to register some hits, so Ben decided to beat a retreat. "We need escort home, B's!", he called on channel 2. "On the way.", replied the B fighters. "OK, I'm gonna swing wide the pass, nail anything on the pad as we cross." Ben eased up on the stick and the B17 swung wide to the south. Then he sucked it in and the nose swung crisply across the end of A3. Again, there was a slight tremor as Ben loosed a stick of bombs, skipping them in off the turn.
As if on cue, A fighters appeared at the takeoff spot. Seconds later they were destroyed by the stick of bombs. Ben pulled in the flaps and enterred a shallow dive down to 5 feet. All the gunners were aiming aft. The A's finally got sorted out and began their pursuit. They were closing and the B border was still very far indeed. But B fighters were closing fast. Ben and his sturdy crew needed to buy some time.
The A fighters were now within 1500 yards. "OK, hang on.", Ben said to his crew. He then cranked in a 90 degree banked turn right on the deck. Steadying the turn with light doses of rudder and stick. The A's blew past, taking hits form the gunners as they flew by. A few A's crashed, not watching their altitude closeley enough.
Once, twice, three times, four times they went around in the gut wrenching turn. The B fighters finally were on the scene and Ben went wings level and headed for home. Minutes later they were over home turf and safely on their way to B2. Ben asked his gunners how they did. They were all laughing quite hard, but managed to report approximately 17 kills. Ben swung the B17 around in a break-turn approach to B2, dropping flaps and gear as he decellerated. He gently set the battered ship down. Once on the ground, Biggles stopped laughing long enough to ask Ben who he REALLY was. "C'est DoK", replied Ben.
And so was born the Blood Dragon. Over the next few weeks, The Spanish Inquisition would fly almost non-stop Blood Dragon raids to A3 and C1. Sometimes as many as 2 Dragon ships were orbitting low over the enemy fields. The devestation was impressive, often as many as a dozen enemy fighters would be clawing at the tail of the Dragon ship, just barely above stall speed, only to be blown away by the punishing gunnery of the ship's crew. Sometimes the ship would have to literally drive back to home territory as it didn't have enough lift to maintain level flight. Often the mighty Dragons would land back home with only the autopilot left for controls and on only one or two engines. Ben's record for a Blood Dragon was 34 kills neatly landed back at base, not counting bombing points.
But the days of the Blood Dragon were nearing an end. Already the A's were learning to use stationary bombers with gunners as AA emplacements. This could be suppressed for a while by using DoK's low-level skip bombing technique while in the pylon turn. But soon, with the increased firepower of the FW-190 and the reduced ammo of the B17 gunner, the Blood Dragon faded into history. But for those that flew in them - DoK, Biggles, Pax, Flush Garden, Trips, Boomer, Petie, Tango Circus, and Shoestring - the memory of raining death on the enemy from a slight perch 200 feet over their runway will always bring a smile, and maybe a little drool.
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When sitting down with family for dinner this evening, consider reciting Westy's prayer from the 'Invasion Italy' Scenario...
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A prayer shall we?......
<hangs head>
Dear Cod. Ewe, who art so huge as to shadow all things Airwarrior.
Please deliver thine devout servant Sir Westylot and the other jolly
righteous fellows of the Allied side from the malcontentious
servants of the foul and wicked EQ beast... and Axis.
Let your enemy and mine, 3rdUpselbub, layeth with the slovenly
creatures that scurry about and feed from the ground muck and mire so
that whilst they stupor in thier unwholly debauchery and distracteth
they become, Thou wilst lend your wholly and guiding fin so that my
PeeFourtySeven, The Jug O'Death, may fully converge all eight virtual
fifty calibre machine guns of unselfless mercy and deliverance upon
his wicked form. So that dost his headeth explode and depart this world
and his unsanctimonious form, whilst the beasts' chariot of the Olds
dost burn in flames for eternity with gunner onboard, or tilleth the
red screen of judgement may call for it at the end.
Ahhh men.
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Blue Baron on 'The Golden Age of Air Warrior', when everything is new:
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Having seen the game develop over more than ten years I understand the temptation to anoint earlier eras as "the good old days" or "the golden age" of this or that. My view is not so sentimental, though.
In the early days online gaming was text based. Air Warrior was the first online game that was fully graphical. Yes, other games had graphical interfaces (usually developed by the players), but they simply overlaid the text based system. Sometimes we'd develop graphical interfaces for our text games (Stellar Emperor for example), but most veterans stuck with their terminal emulators. Air Warrior was different in this, and so many aspects, but it arrived in absolute obscurity. What gaming press there was had no clue about this esoteric pastime. Very few people were online. Thus part of what made Air Warrior seem so special back then is that we all knew that we were onto something, years before anyone else was.
But that was really a very small part. It wasn't just that we were discovering something before the masses did, it was that there were so few of us - no more than 10 or 20 souls each night - and thus we got to know one another very well indeed. You could tell, just from the behavior of a dot far away, who everyone was. New players were rare, and the development of relationships among players was a long, evolving process.
The fundamental change to the game took place in the winter of '92, with the release of SVGA AW. At the '92 Con that year in Los Angeles, veterans were already bemoaning the loss of their game. "We won't matter anymore," one of them said in an unguarded moment. "But we'll be like gods to them!" I said, kidding. All of us knew better.
For a box game market, completely unfamiliar with any concept of anything having come before the moment they ripped the shrink wrap off their shinny new game boxes, the very notion of a tradition in computer gaming, much less one that spanned years, was alien. One customer even accused me of making up the quotes from players that I put in the manual. Another asked me why the hell did I think he'd be interested in stuff said by guys he never saw up in the game. Although it hadn't happened overnight, the new guard displaced the old. Many of us thought it would be fun to kill the "ten THOUsand dweebs" but it lost its charm quickly, and the social dynamics of the arena had been forever altered.
SVGA AW was the first box sim to model departure from controlled flight, but we didn't offer this feature online. So called realism was not all the rage back then. Computer Gaming World, in their review said, "With its realistic flight model, Air Warrior is not an adventure, it's a job." Thus Kesmai was reluctant to enable it online. The vocal players - the ones posting on the GEnie BBS - started the chant, "Throw the switch!" Meanwhile Kelton created a separate development: the real time packet. Previously, Air Warrior had run at half speed, even though your gauges showed full speed. This was a concession to networks of the day. Real time added another "realism" factor, separating further the game play of earlier and later AW. When they finally added a full realism arena, they did something inexplicable - they ran it in half time, but added half time rolls. The reasoning was odd. One way Air Warrior disguised the fact that it was running in half time was by having aircraft roll in real time. In the realism arena, the thinking was that everything should be realistic. Thus the roll rate should match the overall time scale. This made the realism arena anything but realistic.
Finally all the screamers got what they asked for - real time, full realism. The majority stayed in half time. The community, already altered by the box release, was now split in two. Squads split up over this, and many old timers still hanging on left the game.
It's difficult to second guess all of this. Air Warrior had been a financial loser. Kesmai made its money from other games. The game had to reach out to a larger audience, or die. By reaching out, in a sense it died as well.
Yet, if you paid attention you saw that the game was anything but dead. New players made dumb mistakes, got better, made friends, developed rivalries, formed squadrons, and got to know people that they otherwise never would have. They found kindred spirits, people to "hate," people to respect, and people to miss when they were gone. These are constants to this game. When we moved it to AOL - again out of pure survival - the cycle repeated. Same for GS, same for AWII, AWIII.
None of us has any idea when we're fooling around in the simulated skies just how important the relationships we're developing are. The bonds we develop with one another happen insidiously and, despite all the explosions going on around us in the game, quietly. None of us has any idea just how much we'll miss those guys we flew with after they're gone. The human heart can't tell the difference between virtual and face to fact worlds. Shared emotion bonds people, no matter where or how that emotion takes place.
Thus, there is only one golden age - the time when YOU first learned the game, and played it for long hours every day or every week. Each of us has his own good old days. And for each, they were just as good.
And for the so-called veteran who complains to me how my latest release killed the game he loved, I can say, "Yes, and you killed the game I loved. You and your kind chased away all my buddies seven years ago." In both cases the accusation is unfair. That's another thing all players from all eras share: the good old days can never last forever. Enjoy yours while you have them. Remember them fondly when they're over. In either case you are experiencing or have experienced something evermore rare in this world.
BB
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[ 11-23-2001: Message edited by: Montezuma ]
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Montezuma: THANKS for posting these! As an old Air Warrior I really enjoy reading them.
Plane ID 715 on GEnie Amiga AW 1.0
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More BB,
Part I of an article published in Gamasutra.
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Glory and Shame: Powerful Psychology in Multiplayer Online Games
by Jonathan Baron
This paper was originally published in the 1999 Game Developer's Conference proceedings.
When you play a stand-alone computer game, you experience challenge, release, escape, frustration, and satisfaction; however, you cannot experience glory. Glory can only take place with an audience. Similarly, no computer game can shame you, again because shame requires that other people be present. But it takes more than merely the existence of other people in our environment to create opportunities for glory and shame - you also need a relationship with those people, one of either knowledge or recognition. This is why server network games, such as Quake, offer no special embarrassment when you perish or when you prevail.
Having large numbers of simultaneous players in an environment that records and preserves player records and actions diminishes anonymity and builds relationships among players, but it also creates the emotionally charged possibility of glory and shame in a game world. It's precisely because this does not exist in most forms of computer gaming that it is seldom understood by game designers; indeed, few have any idea of how even minor design decisions affect the balance between the two extremes. And this balance must be maintained, because if a game shames defeated players too much, many will leave. What's worse, no one will know exactly why they left.
Multiplayer first person shooters like Quake II have minimal shame and glory-
Viewed in a simple engineering way, glory is achieved at the price of shaming others; that is, the greater the shame the greater the glory. To some extent this is true, but the entire concept resists quantifiable analysis. You cannot line up shame possibilities, assign them a numerical weight, and come up with a sum of potential glory. Nor can you quantify how the possibility of shaming others can motivate players to endure tasks of such tedium and boredom that no traditional game designer could imagine them. So powerful are glory and shame that they have bound cultures together for centuries, motivated innumerable people to risk their lives, and have driven countless others to end their lives. Thus, while the creation of such an environment provides an emotional depth to online gaming, it must be employed with thought and care, if employed at all.
In this article, I will explore how glory and shame work in online gaming, note their consequences, and show how they influence the underlying community culture a game creates. Glory and shame also offer a clue as to why multi-player gaming has yet to achieve a prominent place among other entertainment media.
Introduction-
Industry buzzwords such as "massively multi-player," "persistent universe" and the like only hint at their true meaning. Although everyone agrees that having many people in the same shared virtual space, whose actions are recorded and noted far beyond the gaming session is a good thing, few set out to fully manage the consequences of such a situation. Two very powerful, and potentially dangerous consequences, glory and shame, are deceptively easy to create. You cannot have either glory or shame without an audience that knows or knows of each other; hence the benefits of scale and records in playing to both emotions. Further, these emotions go wholly beyond what computer gaming has traditionally provided. Glory and shame explain not only online gaming's ability to reach people on a deeper level than previously possible, but they also account for player behavior that too often comes as a complete surprise - an unpleasant one - to game developers. My article will explain and explore the crucial quality that separates large-scale online games from their stand-alone or network brethren, as well as anything else in entertainment.
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Oops! Left out a part...
This will put it in sequence:
Glory and Shame
by Jonathan Baron
A Unique Audience
Many of you may question just how real or powerful the audience influence can be in multi-player online gaming. Most online games today have no persistence or scale to them at all - they are but a series of evanescent encounters amongst total strangers on a variety of hosts scattered across the world, for which no record is written. Although the power of audience influence is present in these games, and many of the principles I will discuss apply to them, the focus of this talk is on what people refer to today as, for lack of a better word, massively multi-player games. It is this segment of the online multi-player medium that has the potential to attract a broad enough cross section of people in the future to make it one day a major entertainment medium.
Certainly many of you are thinking, however, that even the large scale, persistent world multi-player games can't wield audience influence over players that can rival the effect of living, breathing people in the same room with you. People don't actually see one another, don't actually know one another, most don't even live anywhere near one another. What power can any audience in the virtual world of cyberspace truly exert over anyone?
The power of this audience, as well as the reason it's unique, stems from the most important difference between multi-player games and all other forms of entertainment; namely, the audience is the medium. This is because the audience in multi-player games is unlike any audience in any other form of entertainment, as participant and audience are one. As a player, you are at once participant and spectator, beholder and creator of the game environment. In this there are no analogies, nothing comparable to this environment, other than the experience that people unfamiliar with gaming claim the online gamer is lacking: life. Because the multi-player game contains the force and influence that groups of people bring to real life, but does so in an imaginative setting that real life too often either lacks or dares not attempt, multi-player gaming can have a social impact on people more powerful than real life can provide. Thus, the influence of its audience, without anyone physically being in the room with you when you play, can rival or exceed its real life counterpart. While there are plenty of games that have no audience, or have no audience/player/entertainer boundaries, none has the ability to so consume and involve its participants like online gaming, as everyone who has been involved with the medium at any length can attest.
If the stadium in which the NFL Pro Bowl was played was filled with pro football players as its only spectators, imagine the psychological impact upon the players on the field. Now imagine that every new football player had to play in front of this audience from the moment they first played football. Imagine that every beginning football player had to take to this field and play amongst these players. This is multi-player gaming today, which is also why multi-player games are an infinitesimally small segment of the entertainment industry today.
[ 11-27-2001: Message edited by: Montezuma ]
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Originally posted by Montezuma:
Embarrassment, even on an insignificant level, is completely unheard of in any other entertainment media
I think he'd change his mind if he ever saw me play golf ;)
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NOTE: A previously omitted section was added above!
Glory and Shame
by Jonathan Baron
The Power of Shame
Shame is so powerful an emotion that entire societies have been held together by it. Many still are today, Japan being an excellent example. Echoes of shame's once prime importance in our society exist in a variety of figures of speech ("Shameless", "Have you no shame?", "You should be ashamed of yourself", and so on). Japanese warriors, when shamed, would beg not just for death, but for the right to kill themselves in rather horrible ways. Although people no longer plead for the privilege of killing themselves, and thereby mitigating their shame, every person reading this has wished, at one time or another, that the ground would mercifully swallow us up after we had embarrassed ourselves. No matter the words we choose to describe it, no matter what we actually do in response to it, shame has the power to make us wish we were dead. There is no more powerful emotion. And, until multi-player online games became widely played, this was an emotion computer gaming could not tap.
Furthermore, it is an emotion that most game developers today have no idea they have tapped. Lots of folks in the industry wonder why the market for multi-player games has grown so slowly. Others bemoan the so-called lack of an economic model for them. People dwell on learning curves, barriers to entry, interface design, and compelling content. What they fail to understand is that the principle reason more people aren't playing hosted persistent online games tonight is due to shame - the experience of it, or the fear of it. I challenge you to name a single massively multi-player online game that does not absolutely require that every new player undergo a period of embarrassment or humiliation. Yes, learning any new game requires that you do badly before you can do better, but multi-player has an audience, which, as noted above, is unique in all of entertainment. Multi-player gaming requires that you not only perform poorly initially, but that you do so in front of other people. Embarrassment, even on an insignificant level, is completely unheard of in any other entertainment media, all of which are hell bent to make you feel good and good about yourself.
Next: The Problem with Glory
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Glory and Shame
by Jonathan Baron
The Problem with Glory
Okay, you know that shame is bad, but there are other emotions multi-player gaming can tap into that are quite positive; namely, shame's opposite, glory. Shame can feed glory - the greater the shame, the greater the feeling of glory. What did Conan say when asked what's good in life?
But there are plenty of opportunities for glory, or at least opportunities to reward players and make them feel good about themselves, that don't require the other players be humiliated. What then is the problem with glory? Ask yourself this question: what is the problem with money? Stressing glory, even when it comes without shaming others, emphasizes achievement over development. Although we may think we're motivated by recognition in multi-player games (and, the more competitive people would argue, in most of life's activities), the reason we keep coming back after we know what we're doing is due to our development in the social fabric of the game's community. The distinction can be confusing, and I will try to clear it up some. I'll start with the most recognized forms of today's true online games, how they handle issues of achievement versus development, and by extension, how gracefully they manage matters of glory and shame.
*Pure Meritocracy - the Ultimate Glory Game*
In the massively multi-player realm, this sort of game is best represented by the multi-player air combat simulation. This can also apply to some degree to the first person shooter, but I will restrict my comments to the air combat sim, as it has a long, established history. These games demand skills rare in human beings, skills that you're expected to master to become a force in the community. Earning respect here is not like religion, as devotion alone won't get you there. If you can't think in terms of three-dimensional geometry, and interpolate multiple vectors in your head, then you'll never achieve star status here. It doesn't matter how many hours you play. There is no cumulative character scheme. You cannot earn extra hit points for your fighter aircraft. Put another way, achievement and development are very closely coupled.
Glory and shame here are unambiguous. The two major examples of this genre broadcast notice of your demise, when you perish, to everyone in the game world at that time. One goes so far as to broadcast the game names of both the victor and the vanquished. Not surprisingly, both games have an unspoken ethic that approves of, encourages in fact, attacks with words as well as war planes. Finally, both player communities prefer to resolve major disputes through duels. If they could issue dueling challenges by slapping each other with gloves, they would. Yes, most of the players of these games are men.
That said, both have developed communities that have, over time, matured to include members that aren't hot shot fighter pilots. This is, in part, due to the spiritual influence of the underlying subject matter of these games; that is, aviation in an important and actual war that is still in living memory. In part this is due to the sheer age of the genre. Its first example, Air Warrior, is 12 years old. The point is that the ultimate depth and eventual development of elders, as opposed to just killers, in these communities was not a direct product of the design of these games originally.
*Multiplayer air combat sims like Air Warrior heavily emphasize glory and shame through achievement*
Is this genre successful? Few genres in computer gaming have been as enduring; indeed, in computer years, the genre dates back to the Pleistocene epoch. Is it a worthy model of multi-player game design? Yes, if you'd prefer a small, dedicated customer base. Ninety percent of the people who try these games don't hang around. Quite simply the glory and shame levels are so high, in particular the shame level for new players, that there will only be a mass market for this sort of game when society as a whole gives over to the worship of sadomasochism.
*Cumulative Character Games - The Devoted All Go to Heaven*
Best represented by the fantasy role-playing adventure genre, in these games you can get there through devotion alone. Nobody, regardless of native skill, intellect, reasoning ability, or reflexes can be anything more than meat in these games until they've put in time acquiring attributes an qualities bestowed by the game itself. Being smart can help you become a force to be reckoned with faster, but you have to pay your dues.
Although at first these may seem like purely achievement-oriented games, probably because you usually spend your first few hundred hours acquiring skills and game stuffs. They do evolve, however, into development games. Players either acquire so much stuff that it loses its meaning and utility, or they carve out a niche for themselves, deciding, in effect, to leave the rat race behind them. In either case, players will eventually develop beyond, or in spite of, the reliance of these games on game-created goodies to drive their game mechanics. Although most examples of the genre are established in early medieval settings, online FRP design is dominated not by the pre-Christian mythology of swords and sorcery, but by pure, raw, unseasoned capitalism. You are who you are because of what you've got, what you've acquired, what you can afford to buy.
*Multiplayer role playing games like Ultima Online focus on development*
But, like the occasional over-wealthy soul, player communities move from achievement to development when they learn there's more to life than money, and you're not something special because you have more of it. Just like the meritocracy-based game, cumulative character games over the years develop rich and warm societies that value their members and bring out the best in them. And just like the meritocracy game, they do so for reasons that seldom have anything at all to do with the intended design of their creators. To-date the only cumulative character online game that was ever designed, from the very first, to create a mature, multi-tiered society where money didn't matter was the original Multiplayer Battle Tech which is, alas, no more.
Next: Achievement Vs. Development
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Originally posted by Montezuma:
Spandau flys in BIGWEEK and reaches an altered state.
Oh, man. A lot of people reached an altered state then, and in Kanalfront as well.
Now, for the question on my mind: Is anybody working on a map of Oahu? EA screwed it up this year, but it is well and fitting that we have a map by next December 7. I'll do it if somebody tells me how.
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I was hoping Dok would be able to drag BB here, but I guess he's busy at MS :-(
Keep 'em coming, please.
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Glory and Shame
by Jonathan Baron
Achievement Vs. Development
The time has come to dispense with abstract and semi-concrete examples. What, once and for all, is the difference between achievement and development in multi-player game design, and what does any of this have to do with glory and shame? Achievement is all about meeting the challenges posed by game design. Development is your growth in the society of the game world. Achievement, in a competitive environment where hundreds or thousands are striving for a sharply defined set of goals, is glory for the winners, shame for the losers and also-rans. Development comes not from your ability to achieve game goals, but rather from the ability of the game, intended or not, to reveal who you are. This is how people can come to believe they genuinely know people they've played an online game with. This is where the lasting bonds among online gamers come from, and is the reason why the emergence of online gaming as a major entertainment medium is inevitable. As game designers, however, it is our preoccupation with the achievement side of the games we make, and the side effects of glory and shame that we, with little thought, unleash upon our customers, that retard this medium's emergence.
*Development over Achievement*
The day we become conscious of the power of our medium, and of the power our design decisions have over it, is the day when online gaming leaves its Keystone Cops, silent movie era. Here are a few suggestions that can help you get there:
* Don't build a pyramid. If your game mechanic can only be mastered by a rarified slice of humanity then you will have the harsh, rough, chest beating culture of the meritocracy game. It may evolve into something better, but if it does, it will be no thanks to you. People tend to think that these games have the testosterone-poisoned cultures they do simply because they involve combat. This is simply not true. Look at Tribes, and its ability to employ a variety of contributions from people in a combat setting. Imagine the culture it would create if it became a massively multi-player offering. Instead of a pyramid, build a game structure like a collapsible camping cup - many interlocking layers, nearly equal in size, needing each other to work.
Starsiege: Tribes allows players to occupy a variety of roles
* Shelter your young. Perhaps the most powerful developmental tools the multi-player game has at its disposal are rites of passage, yet only rarely does it employ them. Don't tack on training to your game. Make raising your players part of the game. One major difference between shame in multi-player games and in real life is that, in the former, it can happen inexplicably and without warning. This, more than any other single factor, drives promising new players away from multi-player games - forever.
* Devise a game design where achievement allows and encourages many different sorts of people to make themselves useful in many different ways. Do that, without falling back to the database driven, cumulative character scheme, and player and community development will follow. Do that, and you'll conquer the world.
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Tomorrow... more Slug! (he works cheap)
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Slug's Bomber Memories
OK, let me start by saying that bombers suck.
I don't mean the aircraft themselves.. they're cool. I mean the people who operate them in the arena.
You know who you are and you KNOW you suck. That's why you fly bombers. Cuz you suck. Any questions so far? No? Good.
I have flown and gunned bombers. Why? Cuz I suck? Of course not. I'm Slug. I couldn't suck if I wanted to. And I don't.
I fly bombers in scenarios. Or on those rare squad missions when I am told to blow something up because it is important that it be blown up and that it be blown up by me. I do not question my orders. I am not here to question the wisdom of those whom God has appointed to lead me.
Bombers (the people) still suck. But bombers (the aircraft) do not because you can do interesting things with them. Other than blow toejam up. Like using them as camouflage.
One night, during joint squad operations ("Joint squad" means we couldn't get enough of any one squad to show up so we put together a rag-tag bunch of misfits who competently misrepresented several alleged organizations of Air Warriors.) we had Turkey Hams, Dons (as in Don Quixotes) and I think a couple other morons-- and we decided to strike out across land and capture some
enemy base. I don't remember the name or number of the enemy base or even what version of AW we were on at the time.
I do remember, however, that BlueBaron drew the extremely short straw and got to drive the bomber. ("Did Slug say drive? I think he meant fly." "No, goober, I said drive and I meant drive.")
Meanwhile the rest of us idiots saddled up in flakpanzers - some gunned as I recall and some not gunned (or not gunned by fully functioning humans at least). We hid all these little baby flaks under the wings of the B-17 and headed off (drove off) on our mission.
I don't know where in hell we were except I remember we had to cross a lot of prime real estate and then go over a bridge - all the time hiding under the wings of this (rolling across the ground) B-17.
We got in sight of the target (some freaking airbase) and enemy planes start appearing. Once they got over the shock of seeing a B-17 imitate a station wagon and realized that it was moving - not just painted on the landscape..they moved in for the attack.
Then... WHOOPEE!.. all these little flaks started pulling out from under the
wings and shooting at them! I think the first couple of enemy kills were fatal
humor overloads as pilots laughed themselves into the ground.
The B-17 is still crawling along toward its target but now there are all these little flaks buzzing around out in the open and shooting like crazy at anything that was the wrong color (enemy aircraft, enemy tanks, stop signs, fire hydrants, livestock, liquor stores, women in lingerie, etc.)
As I recall, only a few flaks actually reached the airbase. We were met by fierce resistance there in the form of tanks, flaks and angry lingerie salesmen. We might have whacked a structure or two but we sure as hell didn't close the base.
Oh... what about the bomber you ask? Well, the bomber never made it to the base. He got blowed up within sight of it.
But who cares if the diddlying bomber made it or not anyway? Bombers suck.
Remember?
Slug *TH*
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Yes, its another episode of our favorite garden pest as he slimes his way across the skies..
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The New Adventures of Sluggie the Ham
What a great diddlying country this is!
Finally got back in the saddle last night in AW3 on Big Week.
It was Turkey Ham squad night and a large slice of Hams were present and
slightly accounted for.
Had Holmes, Slug (me, of course), DocDen, Spellbound, Shaky and TK (can't
remember if TK is a Ham or not but he swears like one so he's OK).
Haven't had six Turkey Hams in the same place since the night the local liquor
store gave out them free samples of Tuna-fish Flavored Schnappes.
Had an unusual passle of mediocre missions. Couldn't get one freaking plane to
work for me. Found myself stalling all the time at almost every speed and
altitude when ever I tried to maneuver. Spent most of the time enjoying the
nice eye-candy while goobers snuck up and shot me. Had fun talking to the
Hammies on the vox com though - why is it that everybody sounds like Gypsy
Baron on the voice com?!?!
Is it true that only GB has a microphone and he just pretends to be the rest of
us? I want to know, dammit!
Anyway, it got late and after a couple hours of slaughter, most of the Hams
logged off except me and Doc Den. Sounded like most of them had a good night of
keeling and dealing. Meanwhile, I'm stalling and sprawling in a 51, a Dora, an
F6, a 38 - didn't 'matter what plane they all handled like toejam to me.
Decided to take one last mission in my old standby - the Dweebcat. Grabbed an
F6 off the carrier NW of the atoll and went hunting. First encounter is with a
pair of Cz... a 38 and an F4. Figured I better whack the higher one first (the
38) and worry about the F4 if I live that long. Had screaming E as I approached
so I double Immelman and the 38 climbs to me.. I look out the back and see him
stall and fall.. I drop like a turd out of a wet buffalo's butt and get two
solid burst into him..Ka--BOOOM!
Now the F4 is hunting my ass.... he's higher than me now but I'm still
screaming along like a blind homo at a weenie roast. (Any of you homos touch
me, I'll kill you. I mean it.) I decide to use what I got.. I climb up into
harm's way and, as the F4 climbs up to me, I go inverted and back down the way
I came but at an angle... just enough to confuse the bugger.. he turns to try
and find me or saddle up on me and blows enough E to slow down. The rest, as
they say, dear friends is history. Ka-BOOM! that's two.
So I head over to some Cz airfield figuring I might get lucky before I get
killed.
I see lots of the little donut heads milling about down in the ack - gathering
their numbers before they break out.
I do what Slugs do best... I taunt the little mothers to come out and fight
like the sissy-boys they really are. An F4 is the first contestant. I dive on
his little pointy head and am screaming along at about mach five so he does
what any smart pilot would do... he turns. I turn my speed into altitude and
come back for another pass - I'm not worried about blowing E - I got so damn
much in the bank right now I could conquer half of diddlying Yurp with this E.
I come down vertical , stright down, on the F4 and wait for him to break... he
breaks left so I come straight down to where he used to be... turn left and
voila! there he is parked in front of the hairdresser's waiting for his wife...
Ka-BOOOMMMM And Baby Makes Three!
Now I got a Spit coming almost co-alt and I'm a little banged up.. nobody shot
me yet but I jumped out of my chair and spilled a glass of Jack Daniels on my
dick so I'm feeling mean. What a waste of good booze! You morons will ALL PAY
FOR THIS!
I figure the Spit will nail my bellybutton but I'm ready to die. I use the last little
bit of wep to get some speed going and pull the Ho-vert (TM) on him.... he
scoots by with me on his butt - I ping him and he panics.. he musta yanked the
stick too hard.... he kind of stalls in the turn (nice to see it happen to
somebody else tonight for a change)... So I go for the freaking gusto and chop
throttle.. I ain't gonna get more than one chance on this diddlyer. I slide in
behind him slow and *real* maneuverable... he's pulling away fast but he's also
trying to outturn me.. I saddle up quick.. two bursts and I'm picking pieces of
his undershorts out of my teeth. Ka-BOOOM! Thanks for playing. That's four!
YES YES YES!! I go crazy on Channel one after I kill the spit... Somebody comes
back on the radio and wonders out loud.. "Gee, I wonder how Slug acts if he
kills a Dora?" Funny you should wonder my hairy palmed friend.. since the last
plane coming out of the Cz swarm happens to be a freaking DORA!!!!!
I got no wep left... I'm kind of low.. my pants are still soaked with booze and
I only got about 20 percent ammo left... "Hmmm...." wonders the Slug. "Are
these Dora things supposed to be hard to kill?"
Being relatively new to all these new planes (honest, I never tried many of
them before except in beta and even then I couldn't figure them out) I figger
I'll get me a free lesson in how the Dora works right about now.
The Dora is about co-alt but I figger he has to have more E than me.. "What to
do..What to do.... Oh Bother", said Sluggie the Pooh!
I go into a climbing spiral right away.. hoping this dude has never seen one
before and will figure that I must be AFK and taking a piss someplace. I'm
clawing a few hundred feet out of thin air, riding the stall horn and finally
get within "Gotta Do Something" range.
I turn to face the Dora and "I go diving down" (TM)... pulling up into a
vertical lead turn.. the bastard climbs up outta range and I stall out,
floating gently back to about 6K like the dead piece of vegetable matter I am
about to become.
But then! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?!?!? The Dora decides to turn and finish me
off rather than gain altitude. LORD LOVE A DUCK!
As he turns I can see the E leaking out every pore in his overfed, long-haired,
unfit to breathe body. (Ooops.. I was looking in the mirror for a second.
Sorry.)
He turns to his right! WHY?!?!?! (Nobody ever turns to their right, man,
nobody. Dont' ask me, I don't know why.) As he comes around I turn in his blind
spot (low and behind) and drop the nose to a low yoyo.... He must have lost
sight because he turned right past me! and kept going. Now I got enough E built
up to sneak right up his Hershey highway so I pop up from behind and start
firing... black greasy smoke is choking me as he frantically pulls to his left
and stalls.... I figure he's mortally wounded but what the hell.. I still got a
bullet or two.... I saddle up for one more burst and find out toejam! I dont'
have one more burst left.....
Only one thing to do.. I chase him and hold tight on him... he's wounded and
not flyign very well.. I dog him and dog him and he tries to maneuver away....
he spins out and Ka-BOOOMMMMMM "A Kill Has Been Recorded."
The Slug goes totally bananas! All across the arena you can hear the "click" of
people turning their radios off as I scream and whoop and Praise Jeezus and
howl like a baboon with his nuts caught on a tree branch. Golly-geeIT! IT DON'T
GET NO BETTER THAN THIS! My Bz brothers (Spand and DocDen) arrived in time to
see the last one or two kills and heap compliments upon my sweaty brow. I
graciously thank them for their kindness.
Now I gotta problem... Got two percent fuel, no bullets, and my pants are now
stuck to the Golly-gee chair (the liquor has dried, ending my hopes of tearing off
the pants and wringing them over the now-empty glass) and I'm a long ways
across the map from any air field that shades toward the infrared end of the
visible light spectrum.
Gotta cross lots of enema territory to get home.
I head NE toward home and chop power.. it's gonna be a two sector glide if I
don't conserve gas. I usually don't give a toejam about landing but this time -
with five kills in the keel bag, I want those freaking points. I WANT THEM!
I cruise lower and lower with engine running at about 2/3 power and finally
come in sight of home! That's when I find out the damned gear is wrecked... All
night I had a problem of hitting the gear down key when I'm reaching for the
right view key (Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Slug uses the old view keys on
the board. Why? Because you all suck, that's why.)
I try to come in as flat and slow as possible - at least I got flaps still
working.... settle down on the runweay at about 75 and scrape and spark to a
stop near the end of the runway... I'm hooting, I'm screaming, I'm enjoying
myself at the expense of everyone in the arena - even the damn Muskies are
getting into the spirit of things ("Jeezus, Slug, shut up willya?!?!")
I hit the "Get Out of Plane Free" button and BINGO! just shy of ten thousand
points and a true five-bagger!
Life is good. Air Warrior is better!
God bless you, I love you all.
Slug -=*TH*=-
Morale Officer
Turkey Ham Squadron
Winner of the 1972 Janis Joplin Look-Alike Contest
>>>
-
Loving these posts
Jod I will miss AW
NwBie
Black Widows
-
This one will lack meaning to most here on this thread. Some guys like old MZ will get it as he was part of what I think was the greatest rivalry in AW History. 33rd vs Shill. Hell our rivalry included a food fight at the 1997 Con in Houston Tx. ;)
A SALUTE TO OLE ARC
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Kesmai land
Not an aircraft was stirring, not even in C-land;
The stockings were hung by the fighthers with care,
In hopes that ole Arc soon would be there;
The pilots were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of fighter-kills danced in their heads;
with Lucyboots in her kerchief, and Da Lemming in his cap,
The 33rd just settled down for a short combat nap,
When out on the tarmac there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our bunks to see what was the matter.
Away to the window we flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
While Europe was covered with new-fallen snow,
The Pacific awash in a warm winters glow,
When, what my wondering eyes should report,
But a miniature Buff, and eight tiny escort,
With a little old pilot, so lively and spark,
we knew in a moment it must be ole Arc.
More rapid than Spitfires his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
'Now,TAC! now, SLOTH! now, BURN and SWOOP!
On, EZ! on ARROW! on, VANCE and you OOPS!
To the top of the tower! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!'
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the hanger-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gifts, and Good ole Arc too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the sky
The roaring and growling of each little Ki.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down from the sky Ole Arc came with a bound.
He was dressed in a flightsuit, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and soot;
A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a private just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And we laughed when we saw him, in spite of ourself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up to his plane he arose;
He sprang to his buff, to his scorts gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
'HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT'.
( This poem was composed in December of 1996, Keep that
in mind when you read Bean's statement below.)
ARC I think I can speak on behlalf of all of us here.
It has been six long months since I began flying Air Warrior, at about the
same time you formed the squad. I was quickly drawn to the way that you,
Oops, Wlvee and the others enjoyed the game. Your cyber friendships
expressed over the radio made the game enjoyable for myself and I am certain
everyone in the game. We have seen other Squadrons come and go. We have seen
other pilots come and go, but what you have created will be forever in our
hearts.
I enjoy the pleasent memories. Tanking to A82 with EZ and VANCE. Having you
taxi a badly damaged B17 halfway across B-land with probably the whole squad
at the time inside, only to be vulched feet from B84 (I think). I can still
see the laughter rolling across the screen from that one. I enjoy the
thought of the pleasent memories that are sure to come.
In this holiday season I wish you and the fellow 33rd (yeah Bandito wether
you like it or not your a member by default), a very Happy and Safe Holiday
with Gods Blessings.
You started this all.
Thank You
BEAN & the Rest of the 33rd
-
Today Spam Hole presents...
Dreaded Llama of the Shillelagh explaining what it means to be a 'dweeb' in Air Warrior. I hear they have dweebs in Aces High also.
>>>
Hey! are you tired of being liked? Does it bother you that people constantly think you opinion is valid and worth listening to? then continue on noble reader as you learn.....HOW TO BE A DWEEB!!!!!
Section 1. General dweebdom No that isn't the name of the first dweeb pilot in AW history. General dweebdom is what is usually encountered in an arena at any given time. Now, you're probably asking yourself, "hey, what exactly constitutes dweebness?" Well, there are a great many factors which can contribute to your dweebdom.
A.Stupidity
Done anything stupid lately? I mean anything. engaged 5+ enemy with you gear down? opened your chute for no reason from better than 10k? sat on the runway in FR wondering on an open channel how to turn your engine on? you may already be a winner.
In the AW community anything you do that can be considered stupid and be seen by one or more people can get you labeled a dweeb. Stupidity is also a fairly broad category. "What else can be called stupid?" well, here are a couple examples. On one occasion a fellow ranted and raved about my squads near dominance of an arena. Finally, he actually WROTE KESMAI. He claimed we were keeping players from enjoying what they paid for. Never mind that there are at minimum 5 arenas. Dweeb, 1st class.
Second example. A former squad member got into a heated argument with an enemy pilot on an open channel. first it was simple insults and flying skills comments. then serious four letter insults, personal stuff etc. finally it broke into a collection of "I'm gonna show up at your door and kick your ***." these two rocket scientists then exchanged addresses. Point? taking the GAME too serious is grounds for dweeb classification. these three got Grade A marks.
B.Chatter/griping/whining
Yes, whining is one of the major causes of dweebdom. Griping on an open channel alone isn't the only from mind you. newsgroup postings, junk mail, m-board spam and even country channel makes you dweebfodder. Many times we've all had some Patton wanna-be screaming over the country channel about how we're "losing" because of lack of team work. Folks, this is a game. when you log, the fate of a world rests not on your shoulders. Don't like the situation? Leave the arena, Log off, lead a normal home life, read a book, heck, dare I say even go fly new users. But please, give the newsgroups and text buffer a rest. we DON'T all care about your feelings.
C.Alt monkey-business
Its happened to us all. You're flying along at 20k when dar shows a spit. you turn to investigate only to find this guys is hanging just high enough to be considered a white dwarf star. Naturally he does his B & Z "attempt" but gets roped by any pilot with the ability of say, cottage cheese. Then he runs once he's co-alt (the horror! skill required! let me run like a screaming woman!) If you does this, please, do your fellow pilots a favor, fly only slow-moving, pathetic aircraft like TBF's or val's. this way you'll be easily identifiable.
D.Pointdweebs
OK, you've just finished vulching a 16-year old trash talker for the 11th straight time. He comes on the open channel as you rtb his pelt(s) and tells you how badly he'd waste you one on one (this is of course under ideal conditions. Ideal being your severe intoxication/coma, loss of motor skills in all appendages, blindness and eplipsy and his having 15+k alt.) (see, "alt monkey business") when you respond that while his ability at dogfighting that goony was impressive, your skills probably outmatch his by a slight (several parsecs) margin, They all say the same thing. "Well my score is WAY higher than yours." Kids, just because you have 3 gazillion bomber points (and a full 4 fighter points) does not mean you shall receive the slightest amount of respect from any pilot or organization affiliated with the game of Air Warrior. 1, 2, 3 or, classic. On Gamestorm, compuserve, delphi, or (shudder) AOL. Points mean squat. Always have always will. Unless the database ever gets fixed. which, as I said before, always have always will.
So, Having read this simple treaste on how to be a dweeb, lets hope that you go into the AW world with a slightly better idea of how to make yourself the most mindless, Knuckle-dragging, gerbil-felching, mind-numbing, red-necking, B & Z-ing, Spindweebing, random ID having, good for nothing, 8 line macro-spewing, AlTeRnAtE-CaPs-TyPiNg, AOL subscribing, on command warping, rootenest, tootenest, Edward Everet Hortenest dweeb that has ever played the game
^DL^
>>>
-
I can only hope EA Online will go the way of GEnie...
>>>
The End Of An Error:
DoK's Farewell To GEnie
-------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Mon, 01 Apr 1996 22:41:07 -0800
From: msmiller@world.std.com (Mark S. Miller)
Subject: Spring Hate-Cleaning
Newsgroups: alt.games.air-warrior
Organization: GonZo Engineering
Today a chapter in my life has ended.
I cancelled my accounts on GEnie. All of 'em. I have ripped that vile,
rotting corpse from my backyard - dug it up with a backhoe, and flung it
out on the interstate for the crows and rats to feed on. Then let the acid
rain take care of what's left.
To paraphrase Chief Joseph: "I will pay no more forever."
Like a small handful of Survivors, I signed on to GEnie in 1987 ... to
play AirWarrior. Nine years later, I anxiously await the chance to dance
on GEnie's grave. GEnie was simply too slow and too dumb to live.
Comparisons to dinosaurs are obvious, too easy, and - sadly - wrong. The
big scaly bastards were nature made - and nature couldn't conceive of
anything as far behind the evolutionary curve as GEnie.
Not without help by Man. And not just "man" ... but that lowest form of
the breed known as "Greedy Man." They tried to get wine from a stone, and
it came out smelling strangely like vinegar, and a lot more warm and
yellow than they'd like. And now there are traces of red in it. And small
chunks of entrail which sneak their way down the urinary tract to Freedom
- to escape the ravenous tapeworms which which ooze sulphuric acid from
every inch of their length, and gnaw away at GEnie's innards with razor
sharp jaws.
The big boot of The Future stomped the living snot out of GEnie. No ...
that's not quite right. It wasn't The Future that killed GEnie ... it was
the present. For a brief moment they were high times because GEnie was The
Only Game In Town. We lived on GEnie ... and GEnie lived on us. And they
gloated about it ... treated customers like used air-sickness bags ... and
thought they could get away with it. And for a while they did.
But Time is a cruel muther, and eventually Time catches up with things
that deserve to die and puts them in their place. And it doesn't say
"pretty please, may I?" first. It smacks the thing upside the head with a
2x4, saws it's legs off, and chains it's testicles to the floor - to keep
it in its place.
It'll take a while to get GEnie out of my system. I'll wax nostalgic any
time I smell rotting flesh, or see a truck-struck skunk on the highway.
But it'll pass, and the world will be a slightly better place - though I
doubt anyone will notice.
-DoK
>>>
-
A previous goodbye...
>>>
From: Jonathan Baron (bluebaron@kesmai.com)
Subject: Re: Fond farewell to dos :)
Newsgroups: alt.games.air-warrior
View this article only
Date: 1997/02/05
Folks had taken to calling it the DOS host. Better than legacy I
suppose, as a legacy is something of significant value that you leave
behind for the next generation. This Air Warrior host, one that Macs,
Amigas, and IBM PCs could fly in, had its final night of public
operation last evening because its value had past. Obsolete is a word
for something meaningful only to the previous generation, and it's not a
term a company would use to describe its product. So DOS or legacy
would have to to.
Several generations of Air Warrior players turned out for this final
night of the DOS host. We flew in a terrain that had its debut in March
of 1991, but many of the pilots there had been flying the game long
before that.
It showed in the fights. I was with a low flight, freshly airborne, as
an enemy group flew overhead and executed crisp split-s dives onto us.
We all went vertical at the same instant to deny the attackers the
nose-to-tail geometry they sought. You never see this on AOL - not
yet. It's difficult to explain the rush of that - facing folks who know
what they're doing with similarly clue endowed allies. Not so long ago
it was a nightly ritual for me, and an excitement that began before I
logged on, and followed me into sleep. You were entering the place
where the finest sim pilots in the world flew. The rivalries, tensions,
exhilaration, and bonds that form from that have no equivalents
elsewhere in life after a decade or two of adulthood has past.
While the dogfighting was keen, the radio traffic was nostalgic. Folks
checking in on channel one, many of whom had not flown together in
years, such as the guy on my wing - Killer, formerly one of our finest
and best loved players, formerly of ICI, currently of IMagic Online.
Talk turned to folks who weren't there, some of whom can exist now only
in our memories - an odd feature of an activity dating back ten years.
Near midnight we formed up over the center of the world - pilots of all
three countries circling and forming on my wing for one final flight.
All within guns range, nobody firing a shot. We flew over to a distant
main airfield and pushed our planes forward into a last dive. As our
aircraft flew earthward, we said our goodbyes over the radio: some comic
old curses referencing long ago game snafus, some heartfelt farewells.
Killer and I got on the phone afterward and talked old times until 2.
Jonathan
>>>
-
Today EA shut it down.
Farewell Air Warrior.
In a lost corner of the vast reaches of cyberspace, the ghosts of mustangs, spits, and 109s will fight eternally over iron bottom sound.
-
Originally posted by Montezuma:
Today EA shut it down.
Farewell Air Warrior.
<S>
but I guess it was time to go....
LongHorn
#4495
-
Given the influx of AWer's since the day this thread ended, I thought some might want to take a look and say GOOD-BYE to the game. Sort of like a wake.
-Sikboy (#2214)
-
So sad, I can't believe it's gone and I missed the whole thing.
That game will be missed!
(salute)
Venom
-
With yet another influx of ex-airwarrior types, I thought I'd bring this back up to the top.
-Sikboy
-
Thanks for doing that. I got a kick out of the "Monkey" story and Scavenger's diaries, then and now. I had even read his "There I Was" bio about his involvement in the Atlas missile program. I haven't found anything on AH that's nearly as entertaining as his stuff.
-
:) ;) :)
Extract from an article on AW3 written by long time AW and AH pilot Tjay
‘Lead rolling’. The whine of the J72 reaches a crescendo and I release the brakes. 125kts, raise the noise, and a couple of seconds later the F86 is airborne. Gear up, stick coming back to contain the rapidly building airspeed, and power reducing to 93%.
‘Two rolling’. Looking back over my shoulder I can see my wingman ‘Fox’s Sabre gathering speed. On this narrow runway this way is safer – but less satisfying - than a conventional pairs takeoff.
‘Turning right zero four five. We’ll go for thirty two thousand to start with.’ Another glance behind shows Fox banking right to cut the corner and a minute or so later his Sabre slips smoothly onto my right wing
Radar had two Mig 15s just north of the river and it is possible we will actually see some combat this time – PL forces have been showing considerably more aggression in the past few weeks.
Fox sees them first. ‘Two bogies, one o’clock co-alt.’ Almost certainly our ‘dates’ but not yet positively identified. I start a turn to the North to gain some more altitude, but the two dots, now clearly two Migs, are closing very rapidly into the shapes of two very fast moving Mig 15s. A hard, level reversal sees us meet the challenge head on – just. The 15s pass a couple of hundred feet above our canopies at a closing speed of nearly 900 knots.
Dammit, we’ve been bounced!
Our turn has bled vital energy, so I extend to the East in shallow dive. But the Migs, having gained the initiative aren’t ready to give it up. Already they are in a hard port turn and in a moment will be in hot pursuit. One minute into the engagement and we are already on the back foot. I curse myself for underestimating their speed.
‘Going high left,’ Fox calls, calm and capable in a crisis. Out of the corner of my eye I see the undersides of the Sabre’s wings as it snaps upwards. That manoeuvre dictates the shape of the combat. With the airspeed passing 350 kts, I turn gently right, still in a shallow descent. The Migs follow, cutting the corner, still glued together. I’ve lost sight of Fox and have about 3 seconds left before I am in deep toejam. Come on man! The intake of the lead Mig looks like the gaping maw of a hungry shark. At the very moment I smack the throttle shut and pop the air brakes, I see the flash of Fox’s wings as he drops neatly onto the second Mig’s six. A half second enternity later, the silver Mig staggers, pitches up, rolls inverted and falls away, streaming brown smoke.
I am vaguely aware of Fox’s victory yelp over the RT. I’m in a hard right turn, the Sabre buffeting and shaking as I ride the edge of the stall with the throttle fully forward, desperately trying to deny my pursuer the angle he needs for a guns solution. One slight twitch on the stick will result in a spin and me an my Sabre being served up on a plate. Looking back, I am just in time to see the Mig slide underneath my tail – his extra speed forcing an overshoot. Yes! Stick hard left and back, head swivelling, hope soaring. But the Mig pilot is too canny to fall for the classic barrel roll atttack – especially with Tuffy now looming large in his mirrors. By the time I pick him up off my left wing, he has rolled into a near vertical dive and is heading North.
Fox is also on the way down, but just as I am about to call him to break off, he susses that that a northerly heading on the wrong side of the river, not much fuel, and an altimeter unwinding in a blur is bad news. Reluctantly, the Sabre peels off upwards in a long curve.
‘Teejay Flight is rtb one in the bag’, I call on the open frequency, swinging the nose down and round onto two one zero, throttled well back to let my wingman catch up.
‘Way to go, ‘Fox’.
‘My pleasure boss,’ comes the slightly smug reply.
I am not so happy. I’ve just taken us into an engagement that could have turned really nasty, haven’t fired a shot, and my wingman has had to save my bellybutton and gets a kill into the bargain. At least I am alive to fight another day.
Reality slowly reasserts itself. The coffee on the desk in front of me is cold, the phone is flashing to tell, me I have missed two calls, and the cat is giving me one of her ‘Diner’s late again’ looks. I take a quick look around the room, stretch to ease the tension in my neck and concentrate once again on my computer screen. There’s still the approach and landing to do and my friend Bryan, keeping immaculate formation with me from the spare bedroom of his ranch house on the other side of the Atlantic, will die laughing if I spread it all over the runway.
Welcome to the world of on-line flight simulation.
copyright Tony (Tjay) Jones
Fox
Krait Squadron
:) ;) :)
-
punt :D :D sorry, couldnt help myself:p ]
~S~
-
Originally posted by Nwbie
NwBie
Black Widows
Black Widow ewwwwwwwwwwww............
-Lute III/JG26 9th ST WidowMaker
-
GREAT THREAD!!!
Brings back fond memories.....I miss the days of crewing a B17 and playing "DEATHSTAR" over CZ or BZ territory!
Do I miss AW? Well having played it from AOL days til it died......NO...I have fond memories of a great past.
AH is my home now and will be til the day I cant move the throttle or joystick!
Great to bring back the memories guys!!!!
TG12
TIGER Squadron CO....From AW and AH
:)
-
YUPPERS, I entered the CON as -WN- the most feared Shill :) ( next to -MZ-,-CL- ( awsome A-26 Pilot) and left the CON in a white streached limo with Decom and the newest member of the 33rd now known as NUTTZ:)
Raise our Shill banner on the flagpole will ya? BTW was your Iced tea alittle on the "tart" side????:) LOL -SN- allmost got the shills and the 33rd group thrown out of the hotel,LOL. I still remember Arc's face, as he was approached by the hotel's security with -SN- in tow with a face full of Gravy, mashed potatoes and peas.
Hey Frank, wheres my plane ride ya Putz? And my daughter is PISSED she still hasn't got a ride!! YO! you ready for a BBQ at the new home? bring your trunks ( optional) for the Hottub!!!!!!
And Call me or i'll start crank calling that sweet honey you married:)
NUTTZ
Originally posted by Arrow
This one will lack meaning to most here on this thread. Some guys like old MZ will get it as he was part of what I think was the greatest rivalry in AW History. 33rd vs Shill. Hell our rivalry included a food fight at the 1997 Con in Houston Tx. ;)
A SALUTE TO OLE ARC
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Kesmai land
Not an aircraft was stirring, not even in C-land;
The stockings were hung by the fighthers with care,
In hopes that ole Arc soon would be there;
The pilots were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of fighter-kills danced in their heads;
with Lucyboots in her kerchief, and Da Lemming in his cap,
The 33rd just settled down for a short combat nap,
When out on the tarmac there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our bunks to see what was the matter.
Away to the window we flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
While Europe was covered with new-fallen snow,
The Pacific awash in a warm winters glow,
When, what my wondering eyes should report,
But a miniature Buff, and eight tiny escort,
With a little old pilot, so lively and spark,
we knew in a moment it must be ole Arc.
More rapid than Spitfires his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
'Now,TAC! now, SLOTH! now, BURN and SWOOP!
On, EZ! on ARROW! on, VANCE and you OOPS!
To the top of the tower! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!'
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the hanger-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gifts, and Good ole Arc too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the sky
The roaring and growling of each little Ki.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down from the sky Ole Arc came with a bound.
He was dressed in a flightsuit, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and soot;
A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a private just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And we laughed when we saw him, in spite of ourself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up to his plane he arose;
He sprang to his buff, to his scorts gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
'HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT'.
( This poem was composed in December of 1996, Keep that
in mind when you read Bean's statement below.)
ARC I think I can speak on behlalf of all of us here.
It has been six long months since I began flying Air Warrior, at about the
same time you formed the squad. I was quickly drawn to the way that you,
Oops, Wlvee and the others enjoyed the game. Your cyber friendships
expressed over the radio made the game enjoyable for myself and I am certain
everyone in the game. We have seen other Squadrons come and go. We have seen
other pilots come and go, but what you have created will be forever in our
hearts.
I enjoy the pleasent memories. Tanking to A82 with EZ and VANCE. Having you
taxi a badly damaged B17 halfway across B-land with probably the whole squad
at the time inside, only to be vulched feet from B84 (I think). I can still
see the laughter rolling across the screen from that one. I enjoy the
thought of the pleasent memories that are sure to come.
In this holiday season I wish you and the fellow 33rd (yeah Bandito wether
you like it or not your a member by default), a very Happy and Safe Holiday
with Gods Blessings.
You started this all.
Thank You
BEAN & the Rest of the 33rd
-
Subj: The Horaldo Show 1/5
Date: 96-09-30 21:17:42 edt
From: Pkj99
Posted on: America Online
cue theme music>
Yes, we've all done it, takeoff and climb to altitude, see a furball
ahead and below and dive down into it. As we rocket through with our
controls frozen, dutifully counting all 256 shades of gray, we're bound to ask
- "why did I bother getting altitude in the first place?"...
AND
Those times when we've come across a bogey, alone and below, we zoom
to take his energy away and he drives knee deep up the ol spinkster and
gives the lunch a smoldering lead ride up thru the cranium...
That's right folks, we're talking Dweeb Evolution on today's Special
Edition Presentation of –
The Horaldo Show!
Ho: Thank you, thank you, let's get right to it. My guests today are,
to my right, Dr. Frank Richo...
Dr. Frank: RIZHO, FRANK RIZHO. Open your friggin ears, Jerky.
Ho: oh, sorry about that, Dr. Frank Rizho, noted Dweebolontoligist and author of the book "From Sine Waves to Fish Hooks, Advancement of the Modern Dweeb in the Air Warrior Environment, *******."
Riz: That's right, fruitcake.
Ho: And to my left, allow me to introduce Mr. Raynard du Homebois, Expert Energy Extractor from...?
Ray: France. Yo, I'm from France, Horaldo. And I wanna say what up to my moms and all the fellas back in France. Yo... what up France.
Ho: Ah, yes, France... well, welcome to the show gentlemen, glad to have you with us.
Ray: What up.
Riz: Alright, tough guy, don't you make me get up now.
Ho: Dr. Rizho, I've been reading your book...
Riz: Really? Well I'm very proud of ya.
Ho: ... and I must say that I'm very impressed with your knowledge of early dweebdom behavior....
Riz: Listen, peachpit, I've had just about enough of your crap. Give ME the dam microphone and SIT DOWN before I start ripping chunks off of this chair and beatin you over the pointed dweeb head with em.... you'll be sittin there with your shoes off and big old chunks of aluminum and wire and whatnot all sticking out of your head, dripping blood and tears... don't get me started with you, rubberneck.
Ho: ah, well, ok... why don't we break for a commercial...
Ray: Commercial?
Riz: Hey pal, I ain't got time to be sittin here while you're off selling some of that whatever the hell liquid fence cleaning soap and them fruit salads in a can crap there... I got roots to canal, fishes to fry, if ya know what I mean there, forkball.
Ho: ... and it will give our audience a chance to download the file funtime.zip, are you gentlemen familiar with the film funtime.cam?
Ray: Familiar? Man, that was real, you know what I'm sayin? It ain't no
familiar, man, heh, I lived it! That's what I'm talkin about.
Riz: What are you kidding me? I produced and directed the friggin thing. I'm there and all out there and everything... tossin around friggin deli plates and yellin and screamin - "YOU, yeah YOU wormnuts, move that friggin camera over HERE" and everything... I got em runnin around like Chinese hotcakes out there... yeah, I know funtime.cam there, chuck chopped.
-
Ho: Good, good. Grab the file folks, and we'll be back!
Subj: Horaldo Show 2/5
Date: 96-09-30 21:18:17 edt
From: Pkj99
Posted on: America Online
Vulched?
Fragged by some colorblind, trigger-happy dweeb?
You may be entitled to compensation.
Call 1-900-IMA-DWEEB ($8.99 per minute) for a FREE consultation with
the firm of -
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"Laid to rest? Get paid the best."
We specialize in all forms of -
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Egg and Augers
AWACS'ers
SPECIAL offer, this month only -
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Turn in a friend and get an additional 5 BUCKS OFF! (with coupon)
Act now! This offer is for a limited time only. That's
1-900-IMA-DWEEB.
Hot, naked AWtorneys want to take your calls now... 1-900-IMA-DWEEB.
(offer void where prohibited and where people have some sense)
-
Subj: Horaldo Show 3/5
Date: 96-09-30 21:18:49 edt
From: Pkj99
Posted on: America Online
Ho: Ok, we're back. Dr. Rizho, please tell us about your book.
Riz: Whoa, you're really pushin it there, peat moss. Tell ya what,here's
the deal. Soon after the dweebs learned to fly they started to hear
crap like altitude and energy and speed and all that there whatnot... and
when they get their snots vulched right out of their heads a few times,
their brains there begin to develop and they learn not to takeoff straight
up into a capped field. So ya got your dweebs there and now they're
learning to lift from a rear field, get some altitude, and come in there with
the, like, advantage there. You follow?
Too bad. So here he comes now, he starts at the bottom from takeoff,
climbs up and gets some alt in the middle, he sees the fight ahead and
below, dives back to the bottom at the fight, and zoom climb extends
out there at the end there. Like a sine wave, right, chip beef?
Talk about asking for a beating! I mean jeez, he screams through the
furball, usually on an angle heading down, cooking off shots going
everyfrigginwhich way like a dam jiffy-pop... extends and pulls up,
then here the guy is at the end of his zoom, just coming over the top
and he's gonna run smack into some drooling enemas heading to the
fight he just buzzed... looking to give him a belly fulla lead right
between the eyes.
If that ain't enough, wallowing around blind in enema territory, he's
also got the furball between him and home... but he's dead before he
gets there, so that's good. Now here's where the fishhook part comes
in there, tuna roll.
Instead of cooking down through the furball and riding it out heading
out into enema-land, some advanced dweebs began to fly over the fight,
checking out the perimeter to see what else was coming along, matching
dots to counters or radar or that there whatnot... and then diving
down, getting speed and aiming to be level with the highest dots at 2k con
range, this time heading toward friendly territory.
So, from the top they fly over the fight, out into enema territory,
and then dive back down, level out and blow through the fight... the path
now like a fishhook.
Minor adjustments as they pass through the fight, smoke em if they
got em, and if not, well then cheez-wiz they can climb extend with their
back covered in friendly territory, that's what.
That there funtime.cam starts as the dweeb is flying over the fight.
Hepicks out what's happening all around and makes his hook there, diving
through and recovering in friendly territory. That one small procedure
represents another rung on that there evolutionary chain ladder there.
Ho: Thank you Dr. Rizho. We're going to take a short break and when we come back we'll talk with Mr. Homebois about energy extraction.
-
Subj: Horaldo Show 4/5
Date: 96-09-30 21:19:24 edt
From: Pkj99
Posted on: America Online
K-Eel Presents -
"Homey - The Hits Keep-A-Comin"
Featuring classic recordings such as -
"Get in yo Yak
Don't gimme no flak
Fly yo butt around me
and I'll hitcha like Ack..."
Yes that's right, Rappin M.C. Ho B.L.T. and the Fresh Turkey Hams
with "Yaktime Rap (parts 1 and 2!)"
And how about Eagle Day's Hauptman Von Ho with that polka party
anthem "Just a Keelin Ho (I Dun Butt-reamed Limey)" -
"I'm just a keelin Ho
and everywhere I go
pieces of the planes I'm schprayin.
Und vhen ve schtart der dance
I'll make zem load der pants
eeeyooo, how dismayin...."
Yes these hits and many many more can be all yours for 4 EASY
payments of $19.99 (plus 9.95 shipping and fondling). Have your credit card or a
nice visible vein ready when you call 1-800-FLEECE-ME and we'll ship it out
on foot the very next business day!
BUT WAIT! There's MORE!
Order now and we'll also send you -
"Kuntry Ho - Son of a Vulcherman"
with the grin pickin favorite, Pigmeal -
"You picked a fine time to make me Pigmeal
Flew four lousy sectors just to give you my keel
Been shot down in A-Land, blowed up in C-Land
I just heard my wingman go "squeeel"
Ya picked a fine time to make me Pigmeal."
and remember this one? -
"There's a dweeb
on my 'dar
and I'm tryin
to git thar...
yooooou were half my keels tonight"
That's right! Hank Homey Jr. the third with "Half My Keels Tonight".
plus -
"(The theme from) Dweebhide!"
"Four Whiskeys, Three Vulchers, Two Dweebs, and I Ain't Got But One
Life."
"She Egged My Ack, and Vulched My Heart"
Not available in stores (except some gas stations in remote parts of
Arkansas), ORDER NOW!
-
Subj: Horaldo Show 5/5
Date: 96-09-30 21:19:56 edt
From: Pkj99
Posted on: America Online
Ho: Welcome back. Ray, tell me, what makes an Energy Extraction
Expert?
Ray: Check it out Horaldo, you know there's really one thing that
helps a dweeb get a handle on this whole energy thing, and that's
experience. It's a good thing for me, else I'd be out of bidness, you know what
I'm sayin?
But just driving around drilling holes in the sky ain't gonna help a
whole lot neither, see what I'm sayin? Yo, I'm climbing along, 4k CR,
170 IAS, and blink, there's an enema dot ahead, maybe 2k alt lower.
I drop climb to bout 1k, maybe even level and WEP... depends. This is
the heart of the deal right here. In the time it takes him to go from
dot range to con range, woohaa, I got his energy state.
A dweebs gotta pay strict attention to what an enema is doing, be it
fighting another plane, extending from a zoom, or climbing into a
fight. Then he's gotta use what he's seeing with his own two eyes,
and know what to do with it.
Here's one - a whole mess of dots ahead fighting. You get close and
one comes out of the pack into con range. You have only the icon
range scrolling down to help you determine his energy. Ok, it was
fast, you are moving fast and as far as you can tell he's also
moving pretty fast. You have a small alt advantage.
Often a dweeb will think "I'm fast, I can zoom", but in this
situation you really must treat it like a duel. If you zoom in front
of a plane that's co-e it will just follow you up and keel you.
Me, I'm pushin the nose down to get every drop of speed, going nose
to nose with the enema, and working on him from there.
So we merge and I'm really moving, feeling good about going vertical
I head up. Turns out he hasn't got quite as much energy as I do and I
can work him over from above. A slow plane is easy to hit and hard to
maneuver, so that's what we're after. Diving down on him, he turns to
make you face him nose to nose, he has to face you each time you make
a pass.
As he comes out of his turn he'll be slow, a hard 180 degree reverse
will burn energy no matter what he's flying. The important thing to
do now is keep the pressure on. If you fly off or zoom too far away,
he's going nose down level and stuffin that energy all right back in
his plane. You come back, he's got good energy and can snap a turn
right back and make you go nose to nose again. Nothing gained.
What to do is to keep on him. Keep pulling him up and keep making him
turn. The not-so-good dweebs will attempt to follow right away and
become easy pickins. The better dweebs will make it a contest and use
every second of free time trying to catch up with your energy. They
will
gain energy between each pass. Your job is to reduce the amount they
can gain while causing them to burn more in evading.
Ho: Quickly Ray, can you give it to us in a nutshell?
Ray: Sure Horaldo... Say you see a dude on the street. The dude is
all nasty lookin, worn out clothes and stuff. He could be a bum, or he
could be a rich dude tryin to look like a bum. The only way to be sure
that the dude ain't gots no money is to stick your own dam hands in
his pockets and take it. And, while you taking the dudes money don't
turn your back on him or he'll stuff it all back in his pockets again.
You know what I'm sayin.
Ho: That's all the lines we have for today folks... join us next time
when the topic of our show will be - Keel to Death Ratios, Smart Flying
or Running Dweeb?
Guests on today's show will receive gift certificates from Stang-Rite
Parts and Accessories. At Stang-Rite, "We keep C-Land running".
-
Love that you put these here, -MZ-. Been a while...:D
-
Gawd what a great read this thread is! Really brings back great memories.....
Clip
-CL-
-
Originally posted by NomadRip
Love that you put these here, -MZ-. Been a while...:D
Rip :)
culero (a while indeed)
-
Man, talk about a trip down memory lane. :) The games may change now and then, but the community always lives on. And, as BOOT said back in 2001, Scavenger's spirit does too.
-
Originally posted by Montezuma
Part II of Brooke's Air Warrior History.
So, in late 1996, it was a little bit unclear where THE place for
Air Warrior would be. It wouldn't be GEnie. The leading
contender seemed to be America Online, but Delphi's prices looked
good, too. Then America Online announced cheap flat-fee access
to everything including Air Warrior, and a huge number of people
flooded into the game. This caused the same cry heard when the
EGA DOS-version of Air Warrior came out: "The skies will be
clogged to overflowing with dweebs!" Again, it was true for a
time, but I believe that it will pass as people gain experience
-- as the transient dies out -- just as it did way back when.
I flew the first time on Fool's genie account. FR was 17 on my MAC but Damn!!! What a game! I ended up with a Cris account as it was only $2.99 a hour if I remember rightly (old age setting in).
I was going to add the the new MAC version went into beta for almost a year before it came out on AOL for what was supposed to be an 18 month contract. Many AH flyers today joined the rest of our dweeb community during the beta days. I'm pretty sure it went into beta a lil before the PC version was out of beta and went live.
Ya know, looking back to those old days it was a lot of flying back then even if the graphics have gotten better...IMHO it's like getting your first car. You'll never forget it. :)
Nice thread, BTW!
_________________
Ren
The Damned
-
Originally posted by NomadRip
Love that you put these here, -MZ-. Been a while...:D
Holy **** +Rip! It's been what? 8 years? Golly-geen, good to see you again.
-Sik
-
Originally posted by Sikboy
Holy **** +Rip! It's been what? 8 years? Golly-geen, good to see you again.
-Sik
LOL...that's funny...I just called someone a "Cunning Linguist" this afternoon, too!
-
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 188 Wed Oct 16, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 19:07 EDT
Must be Regressors again - who else would move in CLOSER to the ack when it
shoots at 'em? Duhhhhh - he shooting at me?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Message 128 Sat Oct 26, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 10:07 EDT
... Live, from C-Land, it's RegressorFest '91 ...
Well it's a beautiful nite here in C-Land. Up here at 20K you no longer smell
the sheep or the vaseline. At about midnight we're in for a really spectacular
show - the Regressors will be up on the wing.
And here they are. What a sight, what a sight. About a dozen of the best that
the Lobotomy School For The Blind could patch up for tonight. They're
staggering to their planes, climbing in, yelling at their mechanics,
remembering that they have to start the engines first, appoligizing to the
mechanics, and taxiing out.
And it looks like they're going to attack Bee-Land. Well, at 12:2 odds, this
should be quite a fight. But look up there. Why there's about 8 or 10 A's
diving on the Regressor formation. This wasn't on the schedule. (sounds of
death and destruction in copious quantity) Wow, looks like the Regressors are
all dead ... that must rank as teh best 20 seconds of live action television
ever.
Wait! They're trying to take off again! And the A's are on them. They're
trying to get a B17 up - don't they see the enemy fighters over their field?
*BOOM* Guess not. We can see Mullah in the tower talking to his countrymen,
let's listen in: "You stupid piles of afterbirth - you're giving away points!
You're letting the other side win!" Oh, and it looks like the Regressors are
answering: "Duhhhh, shaddup Mul, if you no like it you can move to sum udder
country, duhhh." And Mullah just shot the radiom - and now he's reaching into
a foot-locker, pulling out an SA-7 hand-held AA Missile and firing it up the
backside of the Regressor A26 that's taxiing. BOOOOOOOM. Wow, technicolor!
Well, C2 just got detroyed and the Regressors are reported to have left their
planes. There they are - down in the sheep pen - what a wild sight a dozen
pilots running wild amidst a flock of rather tired looking sheep. Damn - looks
like the sheep keep outmanouevering the Regressors too. There, a Rehgressor
seems to have caught his "true love." Whoa - he seems to be doing that all
wrong - how can that poor sheep breath - yuck.
That about wraps it up for tonight. This has been RegressorFest '91, brought
to you by Vaseline and the American Sheep Farmers Association. Next week we'll
bring you live highligts (from the same place, and the same squadron) of "Up
With Dweebs '91." Sure to be a real slaughter.
Seeeeeee ya ....
Category 6, Topic 2
Message 141 Sat Oct 26, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 19:32 EDT
And, for all you Pink Floyd fans, KDOK now presents the Regressed version of
some popular tunes from The Wall ...
_COMFORTABLY_DUMB_
Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone
at home? [...] There is no brain, they are Regressors A distant dweeb smoked
on the horizon They are now launching planes in waves On chan-nel one we all
hear what they're saying While C-land burns as if with fever They spend hours
in the conference room I can't explain, you would not understand They jam up
the private chan' Regressors have become comfortably dumb
_ANOTHER_DWEEB_IN_THE_HALL_ (PART 2)
We don't need no education We don't need no flight control No dark sarcasm on
the airwaves Mullah leave Regressors alone Hey Mullah leave us dweebs alone
All in all we're just more dweebs in the hall All in all we're just more
dweebs in the hall
OiNk!
-
Category 6, Topic 2
Message 81 Wed Oct 23, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 01:08 EDT
Just feed a kitten into the Cuisinart, Mul. It's the right thing to do, and a
tasty way to do it (or whatever that old puke sez on the Quaker Bloats ad).
I thought THIS was the place we were supposed to call each other names? Wish I'd known there was another. Trashing Regressors is almost as much fun as shooting them down. Almost. It's certainly more cost-effective to do them in en masse here in the RT than over in Warpsville, USA.
Hey ... what's this piece of wool doing on this Regressor's beer can? That is
sooooo sick. That's ... that's ... Ovine Harrasment!!!! A major problem,
awrighty. Whoa ... Senator Hatch just burst a vessel in his forehead at the
very mention of it. Gush, gush, gush. Damn ... that was pretty nice lookin'
wallpaper too.
So, like, when do we get D-land, anyway?
Category 6, Topic 2
Message 92 Wed Oct 23, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 23:05 EDT
Crap. Mul's getting hate mail from the GEstapo and I"M NOT! Something is
definately wrong here.
Yes, all of us non-Regressors were, at one time, for a brief time, beginners.
But, unlike the semi-evolved sewer-suckers we know and love (to kill), we
didn't delude ourselves with the notion that 50 of us posed any more of a
threat than one of us. Not that I want to dissuade Grey Ugly and his merry
crew of target drones from pressing onward. I do so love to kill massive
numbers of brain-drained little dweeblets. When we see the 17 or so of 'em
sitting in C20 we all start to salivate profusely - we see's our supper.
And don't ferget that fer dessert we have:
... Warped Alaska ... Ice Dweeb Sundaes .
ategory 6, Topic 2
Message 95 Thu Oct 24, 1991
MPGAMES [Carrie/SysOp] at 00:32 EDT
(heh..this one kills me: )
Folks,
I want to clear up a misconception. You are welcome to insult each other's personnas. It is part of the game and I understand that. However, there is a fine line between insulting a personna and insulting the person behind the personna. Please be careful in doing this. IT is best if you keep your insults tactful and humorous.
To repeat, you CAN insult a personna. You can insult their favorite sheep,
goat, cow, dog or cat. Just don't insult the person behind the personna.
Carrie
------------
Category 6, Topic 2
Message 96 Thu Oct 24, 1991
R.STRAHAN [Mullah {NME}] at 00:32 EDT
Gawd this place reeks of sheep.
-
Fifteen. Years. Ago.
Holy $#!%.
-
Originally posted by DoKGonZo
Fifteen. Years. Ago.
Holy $#!%.
Yeah. I keep telling people you don't want the day to go by fast when you get older:)
geezuz. 15 years it is, isn't.
I have more C&B stuff ;-)
I have some on the spit vs FW arguments...I gotta look for the one you told Stil to take that rod out of his prettythang....or was it the other way around;-)
Then there's Ketchump.
Sorry..I just keep lol ;-)
Go Pats! One more SB baby!
Flutie
-
LOL....gotta luv the Slug!
-
Damn...read the whole frekin thread...laughed my prettythang off with the memories.
What the heck ever happened to Ho anyway? Seen a rare post from Sluggo, but nuthin from Holmes since the AW dayz.
-
Some GREAT reading there.
Scav's posts always bring a big grin. For a short time there logging into GEnie was all about seeing what Scav had posted that day.
Seeing Holmes monkey post again was great. I'd forgotten all about that one.
-
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 22 Fri Oct 04, 1991
A.DORMAN2 [Ghost Rider] at 22:06 EDT
I want a front row seat in the Grog vs Buck war! Paid top dollar to get it and I want it! :)
Ok, as for a DFA vs Muskies fight, your on. As I believe the DFA is the best
squad pilot for pilot, squad for squad then any other squad in this game, I
accept the challenge! Only problem is, getting all the DFA to come back and
fly as a squad again. Even though I have a full roster, not everyone flies. I
will have to send out mail to everyone and let them know about this.
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 32 Sat Oct 05, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 15:55 EDT
Geez - I better change jobs so I can afford to be obnoxious again.
As for the "best ever squads," they would have to be the Spanish Inquisitionand the original Gunfighters. The SI was a hybrid of the 4Q and FC, the GF'sere an original formation. Almost all the "greats" came from these units. Forpure concentration and volume of firepower, nothing has come close to what hese squads had. This was as much due to the moment in history that these squads arose as anything else. The old JV-44 would run a close 3rd. After thatpoint, the rates went to $6/hr and nothing has been quite the same since. I still wonder what happened to Lufberry and Ajax and Parsifal and Bader and
Last Dance and Undead Fred and Pax and Shoestring and so many others who made
AW an amazing place to be at.
But I'm getting off track ...
Or not ...
Who knows? Who cares? In an ever-changing world where grown men ruin their
credit ratings for an addiction to a thing called Air Warrior, can The End
really be THAT far away? Hare Krishna ... Krishna Krishna ...
... hanging out at an airport near you ...
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 55 Sun Oct 06, 1991
R.STRAHAN [Mullah {NME}] at 16:16 EDT
(walks in, stuffin buck knoife in poocket, wipin hands on jenans)
Dweebaroo, where you eneven IN the dfa during it's pre-eminence? Don't
renmember seein ya Do Ok, I gueess if you Bz wanna sit, order, and swallow in
unison, that's alwriteight, but do ya have to play the keep laplayin the
jukebox songs in NUnumerical order?
By the time this DFA-Kinnightbreed duel happensactuallyh happens, it's gonna
look like p. 870. How about some Cz to a couple of C squads to buffer any
additoother advantages you gus ys are worried aobout.
Kite, you think it's crowded now? I jstust just passed two busloads of
aggressors on their way in.
Golly Fence, somebody slashed a tire on your stang. Looks like he had to dig
to get to it.
- mul
------------
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 56 Sun Oct 06, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 17:07 EDT
Gee - all these squads duelin and me left out. Awwwww. Well, I kill enough
InBreeds, Wusketeers, Gumbiters, and potatowalks on any given night to satisfy
my blood lust.
Am I being obnoxious enough yet, Grog?
Oh Fenciekins ... here have a nice, cool, blue sugar cube ...
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 68 Mon Oct 07, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 01:22 EDT
You got it - we hang up there, waiting to spot some mindless, slobbering
dullard who isn't watching or is too busy shooting off his gaping, festering
cake-hole on channel 1. Then we swoop down at 500+ knots and kill the empty-headed dwark in one razor-quick swipe.
I had originally intended to post something about the Regres- ... uh ...
Aggressors. They showed incredible wisdom tonite. While A-land was battling against B-land at like 18:8 odds, these brain-trusts swing in to bomb A19 in P38s and F4Us. Brilliant, eh? But, of course, as badly outgunned as we was, the C's still ended up sucking drainage water.
Anyway, the INTERESTING thing tonite was that B-Man's crew moved to A-land. It certainly will be interesting
to see how (what's left of) the B's fare when they don't have massive
numerical superiority.
You SURE you don't want this blue sugar cube, Fenciekins? How 'bout an
Aspirin?
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 82 Mon Oct 07, 1991
PANGLOSS [Pat/+M+/1792] at 23:40 EDT
Ok, Ath members, here's a list of plans submitted by Ath AF pilots for
Saturday night. No more entries will be allowed at this time, as the deadline
has already passed. (You were warned!) The parentheses indictate the pilot
who submitted the plan.
1) "Paint the Fencer" (Buckaroo). Essentially a search-and-vandalize mission.
2) "Picket Fencer" (Anvil). Surround B-land with a wall of A's.
3) "Barbed Wire Fencer" (Sloth). Put A's in A-26's on the ground facing the
back end of each B runway at ten minutes 'till 9.
4) "Electric Fencer" (Assassin). Wait high above B-land in B-17's. When they
begin to appear on the runway, drop the bombs while they're still below 300
feet. (Hard up for "Fencer" puns, eh Asn? ;-)
...and last but not least...
5) "Fencer Du Jour" (DoK). No plans needed. Just fly high and kill low.
Category 4, Topic 35
Message 89 Tue Oct 08, 1991
MSMILLER [DoKtOr GoNzO] at 18:47 EDT
"Fencer du Jour"??? Sorry, that's WAY below my standards for savage verbal imagery. And don't ferget Lanciekins is still in B-land - we mustn't make him feel left out.
A fireplace is probably dangerous considering the gas fumes and loose ammo that give this place atmosphere.
Hey ... someone better go outside and see to Fencer. He's standing there next to his P-51 - kicking away at it - muttering to himself in a dark and throaty way - something about "no good useless backstabbing swine" - he may need a beer - or a good smack upside the head with an ammo case. Ah - Mullah isheading out to check on Fencer - that should do wonders.
I forgot about that Regressor Training Manual. The one that said "Hit * when the STALL light comes on to restart engine." Thrilling stuff. Almost gives you
hope - for Dan Quayle.
OiNk!
-
Originally posted by DoKGonZo
Fifteen. Years. Ago.
Holy $#!%.
Hehe, no lie. My eldest kid was two when I started this long strange trip. She wouldn't sleep through the night so I stayed up to give Mom a rest as she still had the littlest to deal with. So I stayed up late and I flew and bounced a recalcitrant child on my lap til she went to lalaland.
My eldest will graduate from college in December.
A heartfelt thanks to HT and all of you guys who made something from nothing. It was a great time and more importantly it was something that had never been done; a society of nothing but skills and names. No faces, no real names.
I only knew you guys by your talents and skills in a simulator. Has that ever been done before?
-
Where'd that ole machievellian and pure "evile" instigator -MZ- go off to?
On another note, if I can find the disc I'll post some stuff most of you've never seen before, unless you were a member of the DQ squad for example, which harken to the early 90's.