In my W95 term, (January 1995 - April 1995), I worked for the federal government
One of the major entertainments I indulged in during that time was playing
Doom and its various clones in deathmatches with my coworkers. My favourite
game was Descent, in which you "fly" a little ship around in "mines".
What makes it my favourite is the six fully independent degrees of freedom.
A factor which added significantly to my enjoyment of these games was a rivalry
that developed between me and another coworker. This is a couple of email
exchanges that took place over a few days between me and that coworker. It
begins with said coworker berating me for (quite innocently (at first)) using
the extra computer I had on my desk to unfair advantage.
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From Chuck to Die regarding Friday's battle:
I see that playing with only one ship is obviously not
sufficient to defeat me. Of course I knew that, your as slow as a
Kirk. Whatsa matter, ship canna take anymore captain, she hasn't got
the power? What the hells wrong with you, you in some sort of
permentant shrooms mode or something? If you were my dog I would
pity you too much to even shoot you. If you were my mother I'd kick
you you-know-where. If you were my girlfriend... well hell, at least
you'd have heard 'you' and 'girlfriend' in the same sentence. You
make me sick McFly, you make the prospect of Kirk's little problem
appealing for consumption. Get a life you putrid stinking loser,
even Kirk looks popular compared to you.
Chuck Overkill,
Stomping on your grave
PS I'm still gloating...
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Reply from Die to Chuck:
Hmmm... Do mine eyes deceive me? Is this the pathetic cry of
a recently vanquished opponent, come to receive another sound
thrashing at the feet of her better? Let's see if I can dig up some
memories of the battles this one participated in... Ah yes! I
remember! This is the one who waits patiently by the sidelines whilst
a glorious battle is taking place on the field of honour - and then,
immediately following the glorious climax of such a clash, this fiend
slithers behind the rightful heir to the possessions of the
vanquished one, and brutally stabs him in the back! Such a coward is
not worth the reply.
And yet... how may the weak ones learn to be strong, if the
strong do not show them the way? And how do the wretched learn the
way of honour, unless the honourable are willing to teach? Yes, these
are the ways of true warriors. To forgive the transgressions of those
below them, so that they may one day rise to see the light, and
repent their evil ways. So let this be a lesson to you little one.
There is no honour in unearned victory, and no shame in honourable
defeat. Now, get on your way, and let me not see you again, unless it
be face to face, in glorious combat!
Die
P.S. And I wrote that all by myself...
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Reply from Chuck to Die:
You speak as if a warrior has some innate right to rest after
a battle, to sit on his fat ass and stare at the floating carcass,
like an old man leaning against a pole after crossing the street. It
is unfortunate if you can only handle one opponent at a time, tunnel
vision is death of many a would-be warrior. If you would care for
instructions in the ways of the battle I would oblige you in pity, it
is so difficult to find a worthy opponent that I would even settle
for a victim who would fight back. Perhaps if you practice hard
enough, one day you will approach being of interest to me. Perhaps I
can teach you how to kill quick and efficiently, how of slide through
the tunnels like a ghost, how to read the mines... But this will
take many hours. I dream of a day when someone may challenge me on
even ground.
There is no honor except in the kill, anything else is the mourning
talk of funerals. Perhaps you will give up this artificial sense of
honor and learn to truly live the kill.
Chuck Overkill
Patient and Potent
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Reply from Die to Chuck:
You speak as though the cowardly have some inate right to
claim the possessions of those around them, to appear only when their
opponent is at his weakest, and to strike only when he is most
vulnerable, like a vile disease infecting the battle scores of a
ferocious lion. It is unfortunate if you can only handle the opponent
deceived, for in deception shall be your downfall. If you would care
for instructions in the ways of the open combat I would oblige you in
pity, it is so difficult to find a worthy opponent that I would even
settle for a victim who would fight back. Perhaps if you practice
hard enough, one day you will approach being of interest to me.
Perhaps I can teach you how to approach your opponent without fear,
how to soar through the tunnels like an eagle, how to gain freedom
from the depths of the earth... But this will take many years. I
dream of a day when someone may challenge me on open ground.
There is no honour in the kill, only in the preceding battle
of wills. Perhaps you will give up this misguided sense of honour and
learn to truly live for the battle.
Die
Ready and Waiting
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Reply from Chuck to Die:
You speak as though the warrior has some innate right to
weakness, to haphazardly scatter their possessions around them and
sleep in the mines. There is no weakness in the mines, only strength
and death. I am one with the mine, it's walls wrap around me and I
am invisible. The mine is my ally, a symbiotic relationship, it
provides me with food, and I provide it with death, purifying it's
veins. I am the immune system and the mines are my arteries. It is
right the the weak should fear me. Soar like an eagle and you shall
fall, for an eagle knows not to fly through a rabbit's warren, that
is the realm of the fox. You may be a worthy oppenent in the open
void, but of emptyness I have no interest, but you are out of your
element in the mines. Perhaps it would be best for your sake if you
took your battles to the void where you are comfortable. The mines
nave no place for jousting tourneys and castles in the sky, there is
only place for hunter and prey. If you insist on pestering me again
come alone, you may believe in safety in numbers but that is the path
of a coward's mind, and the symbiosis shall consume all cowards.
Only when you give up fear of death shall you be at one with death,
and therefore at one with the mines.
Chuck Overkill
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Reply from Die to Chuck:
I accept your challenge to single combat.
12:00. Level 1. Be there.
Die
Quickly
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Reply from Chuck to Die:
You are foolish but none-the-less I shall be there.
Chuck Overkill,
Grining with a big gun
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What followed was a battle which started as single combat between Die
and Chuck, but apparently Chuck (who set up the game) did not like
the terms he agreed to, and so he allowed others to join.
After the battle...
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From Die to Chuck regarding his deception:
As I suspected, it is not in you to face a challenge. You must always
rely on deception, and trickery. Well, let it be noted that under the
terms of single combat, we would now be on even ground, but since
your's is the way of evil, I must claim victory, and await your next
challenge...
Die
Again
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Reply from Chuck to Die:
I don't know on what pathetic grounds you claim victory, for
you are the one with a past tainted with honorless battles, unless it
is on greatest number of deaths. No judge should uphold your ruling,
your pathetic squawking makes me noxious, if you are not happy with
death I recommend you find a stalking ground, you will find only
death here.
Chuck Overkill,
Pity and merciful pain to the pathetic
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Reply from Die to Chuck:
Hmm... Let's see. Grounds? Does Chucky Cheese here read the battle
stats? Does he read his mail? Perhaps we should explain it to him
with a little more clarity? Yes, let's.
It's very simple Chuckie Poo, you see under the terms of single
combat (that's from the mail), we ended the game at 15-15 (that was
from the battle stats). Given that the challenge was made with the
condition of single combat, anything other statistic or claim is
irrelevant to the result. In fact, in the spirit of such statement,
and given my gracious and honourable manner, I hereby withdraw my
claim of victory, and will allow you to claim a draw... pending
rematch.
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From Chuck to all participating warriors regarding Friday's Battle:
Friends, victoms, countrymen, lend me your lives. It is
apparent that the pathetic Die is lower than even the lowest of you.
He seems to have lost his grip upon reality. Of course being laid to
waste so many times can have such an effect on the weak and young,
those that have not the heart of a warrior. I envite you to jeer and
shame this pathetic image of a warrior, although he may better some
of you in combat his victories must have little honor. Know that
today each one of you has come up a notch in the hiarchy of death,
the Die has fallen. I look forward to the next who comes to
challenge me, may the mines be kind, for I shall not. I shall make
an offer of apprenticeship to those that shall ask, that I may see
the day when the mines are inhabited by those I can call warrior, and
perhaps even friend.
Chuck Overkill,
Sage of the Mines
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From Die to all participating warriors regarding Chuck:
Ahhhh yes... Once again, the weasel shows her true colours. Valiant
knights, as you peruse this, the true record of the exchange between
Chucky Cheese and myself, I believe you will come to the inevitable
conclusion (as have I) that the aforementioned is attempting to
deceive you. In fact, as you look closer into the dark heart of this
maniac you will no doubt see that deception is the only way she
knows. I invite you to pity this poor creature, for although she may
better some of you in combat, her victories come at the price of her
very soul. Yes, so deep has the knife of evil cut into this poor
dear's heart, she may be beyond hope; however, to a true warrior, the
battle that can't be won is the most valiant of all. So I beseech
you, do not allow the sense of repulsion you feel at any contact with
her to come to the surface. Treat her with the utmost respect and
dignity, for only through your actions may she learn the true way of
honour.
The following contains words of extreme violence, and may not be
suitable for young children. The discretion of a warrior is
advised...
P.S. Due to the length of this correspondence, you may not be
inclined to read it completely. Suffice it to say that contained in
this document is all the evidence required to back up my claims
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(See above)
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And then we get the part that you've already seen.... Interesting isn't it?
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Another exchange
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Yawn, I am sooooo bored. You should have taken the cover off
your ship before you took it out. I thought my poor lasers would
overheat with all the killing I was doing. Guess it can't be helped,
we've all got to live up to our names, that is. The very thought of
gloating to you bores me. I suppose you will bore me again though,
see you in my sights.
Chuck Overkill,
The World's most BORED Warrior
Yep. I would get bored too, running around slaughtering those poor
little Deans and Kirks. Too bad you find it so dangerous to be around
me. I'm sure I would appreciate the company, but you seem to keep
blowing up whenever you approach. Very odd behaviour, I must say.
Die
On Sight
I generally have mercy on those shivering in the corner. I
assume your saying you never attack Dean, Kirk and Geoff. Funny, my
death score doesn't even come close to your kill score. Personally
I'd think cowardess was the cause but I'm sure your above that [note
the sarcasm].
Chuck Overkill,
Chairman of the Bored
Let's just say that if forced, I will unleash my fury on those less
fortunate, but I prefer to seek out prey with a slightly greater
chance of surviving. Unfortunately, since I have informed others of
your evil and unjustified tactics, they avoid you, and seek out the
opponent who is willing to face them on even ground, so as to test
their true mettle. They prefer combat with he who will allow them to
learn, as opposed to he who simply causes useless death and
destruction.
Die
With Honour!
Useless death and destruction, death and destruction are the
purest form of beauty. The ship is a static unit of matter, I give
it life, I fire my lasers and in an arc of beauty transform the dull
static house of your meat body into a spasm of chaotic beauty. I am
the only artist of destruction, I create by killing, death is my
medium. I am very discriminating about my kills, I only kill
everything I see, nothing more, nothing less. I do not wait, like an
infant, I stalk, like a mother, the mother of death, I nurse your
ship with my bolts of energy until you are satiated and explode. I
hear your cries and I come, the wet nurse of death, you are all my
children...
Chuck Overkill,
Father of Death, Mother of Pain.