Kel Riever is a member of the Por Corps who actually gets so incredibly bored that he goes out and looks for games on Battle.Net.  Most of these games lead to interesting stories about the general Bnet populace, which he occasionally deems worthy to record for all time, or at least until I take my page down.  They serve as a good source of information on Battle.net to the rest of us, most of whom are too smart to actually play on it.  8P


     There are literally so many battles that I fight, seldom is it, as I contemplate more important things, such as ruling a kingdom of evil and conquering the universe, when I find something memorable about the enemies I’ve encountered.  Every now and then, however, I come across opponents who have made extra efforts to have themselves noticed, and I cannot help but make permanent record of these occasions.  This particular incident occured not long ago, but I must say, every second I have delayed telling this tale has tortured me greatly.  Sit back, relax and be sure to grab some milk and cookies.

     Once upon a time, there was a clan called "n.w." and they sucked.  Unfortunately, I had not been participating long enough in Battlenet (which also sucks) conflicts to experience just how bad opponents could be, and so, in my naivete, I took note of a little war entitled, "4v4," and established contact with those individuals involved.  Five others had already entered, and I did take note that four of these five participants had the initials ‘n.w.’ before their names.  My guard was raised against idiocy, but friendly greetings from these fellow wariors seduced me into thinking they had some sort of class.  We spoke briefly in these amiable tones while we waited for two other commanders to arrive.  Enough time eventually passed when it was decided to forego the other opponents and begin.
     Now, I emphasize my naivete.  Often, I am so desperate to find people who do not speak in rudimentary nonsensicals such as, "dO0D3," and, "1337," or ask such stupid questions as, "watz u Magery," that I tend to miss details when I am approached by those who initially speak english and are polite.  Thus, I never asked about exactly what those ‘n.w.’ initials meant (trust me, it doesn’t matter…) and foolishly – FOOLISHLY – I assumed when we began our little war, each contestant would act in a way that was as fair and interesting as the way they had spoken in that initial conversation.  "Free-for-all," I thought, or perhaps, as we started, someone would quickly propose teams of three.  Foolish.
     And so the host began the countdown.  The first sign of things to come happened when  the only other opponent without those ‘n.w’ initials before his name dropped during the countdown.  "Well, five person free-for-all," I then thought, and selected the Terran armed forces to inflict my damage with.  Two seconds before the start, each one of my n.w.contestants chose the Zerg.
     Still maintaining some shred of intelligence, I was sure my opponents would be using the oh-so-creative Rush, and I quickly sent my SCV’s mining.  I comtemplated that,as many do, these souls had a penchant for the Zerg and simply did not know how to use any other units.  As I waited for my first minerals to be harvested, I took note that my command center was almost completely surrounded by crystal patches and Vespene geysers.  A quick examintaion of one of the crystal patches revealed a virtually inexhaustible supply of those minerals.
     The agony I felt at that moment was indescribable.  Certainly, I had never heard of "$$RICH$$" maps, or I never would have been part of the thing in the first place.  Certainly I did, however, recognize some imbecile’s idea of fun, who would design such a map only because said imbecile probably had never entered a Starcraft conflict for more than five minutes.  "Ah, well," I thought to myself, "Lessons can be hard to learn.  So be it."  I immediately set out to build my bunkers and marines.  I still thought the intentions of my foes was simply ignorant.  I had no idea of the depth of the ridiculous behavior that they were soon to show me.
     As if on cue, the first wave of enemy zerglings arrived as my third bunker was filled.  Twelve zerglings against three filled Terran bunkers, however, did not a victory make.  The skirmish was followed by a repairing of the bunkers and some more SCV exploration.  One of my SCV’s revealed to me the further lack of genius on the part of the map designer.  I realized I was located on top of a square plateau where the only way up was by a small ramp off the northwest corner of the plateau.  As I sadly imagined my enemies’ futures, two dozen more zerglings came to attack, this time a dozen from each of two different forces.
     "Allies,"  I thought, still not understanding the entire comedy of the situation.  I assumed the opponents without forces present might be sparring with each other.  I was hardly offended.  After all, these two forces would need to work together since the brilliant host had chosen the most ideal battleground that I could imagine for my units.  I routed four SCV’s from their mining to repair various bunkers as they were being attacked.  Neither force bothered the repairing SCV’s, however, and I promptly ignored the zerglings and returned to my build order.  It was quiet again, thereafter, thanks to inexperienced commander ingenuity.
     At this stage, I was concerned only with maintaining enough Supply Depots to keep my ever-growing SCV fleet from consuming my command points.  Since our clever host had chosen this $$RICH$$ battlefield, forty-five SCV’s just didn’t seem enough.  Confident my competitors would return, I set up and filled more bunkers at the top of the ramp.  Siege tanks soon backed them.
     No sooner than I had everything in place, my assailants arrived with more zerglings.  Here, the full idiocy of the situation began revealing itself as the multinational repitoire of enemies had increased itself to include all four other commanders.  A number of zerglings actually topped the ramp throu the hail of bombardment and eliminated a few siege tanks, but as my enemies insisted on sparing my bunker-repairing SCV’s, I simply rolled in more tanks when the marines had finished with the zerglings.  I began filling the plateau with missile towers for the inevitable mutalisk assault, and also started construction on a few Starports.  Fortunately, with sixty or so SCV’s, I could do a lot at once.  My foes continued their Noah’s Ark style march up the ramp with more zerglings and, do tell, a few hydralisks.
     I’ll refrain from the boring details of redundant assault descriptions, but the mutalisks entered as soon as I had erected several missile towers, in groups of 6 to 12 at a time.  They might have had some effect, except for my enemies’ wonderful ability to miscalculate what those sixty some-odd SCV’s could repair with an unlimited mineral supply.  For sheer pleasure, I built a dozen wraiths, since my opponents not only felt the need to ignore SCV’s, but also the need to ignore detectors.  Admitedly, I was pressed.  After all, there were four opponents, and sheer numbers kept my SCV’s busy repairing, my barracks producing marines, and my cloaked wraiths moving back and forth across the plateau to help slaughter some pathetic group of mutalisks which always seemed to attack my base from some random direction (usually where I had just rebuilt more missile towers).
     I was actually comtemplating leaving, weighing the worth of the time I could spend fighting worthwhile battles.  When the ultralisks finally came, I started to receive such intelligent transmissions as, "Give it up, Kel.  You lost dood," and, "We win, you loose."  I responded, by saying, "Maybe," and the intellectual return then was, "FUCK YOU!"  Between these comments, and the sorry use of force my opponents had displayed, any thought of leaving was quickly erased with a desire to rub in a large degree of pain.  Ultra-brisk ultralisks did destroy my emplacement at the top of the ramp. Of course, they then couldn’t break past the second line of bunkers and siege tanks.  My foes then started their whining, "Please, Kel, you lose.  Drop,"  to which I replied, "I dont think so," and they replied (you guessed it), "FUCK YOU!"  As the first of my battlecruisers came online, the first of my opponents left the conflict, frustrated at my inability to lie down and submit to the zergling newbie rush.
     The other three allies kept up their attack, adding guardians to the mix of their other units and sparring conversation.  Another brilliant move came as unescorted guardians began assaulting the missile towers.  Of course, unescorted guardians against cloaked wraiths proved to be another loosing proposition.  The second of my enemies dropped from the battle, allowing me to re-establish the emplacement at the top of the ramp.  I covered the emplacement with my battlecruisers, now four in number.
     My two remaining foes had a little more heart in them.  First, they tried a mass mutalisk attack, ignoring my missile towers and wraiths to attack my command center directly.  They might have actually destroyed it, except for the fifteen SCV’s I sent to repair it while it was attacked (yes, they ignored attacking the SCV’s again).  Then my opponents sent a long conga-line of zerglings to run up the ramp, which created the spectacular visual effect of watching them run half-way up and then spontaneously exploding (7 siege tanks defending one ramp can do that quaint trick).  It was a long line, but it did end after serving the purpose of increasing my score.  Sometime after this laughable move, the third of my adversaries left the battle and i was alone with the remaining, most zealous of my n.w.friends.
     I was about to ignore him – I do have to say I was rather underestimating his ability – and went back to figuring out exactly how many battlecruisers I would make when I abruptly heard his battlecry, "Hahahahahahaha, you die!"  My wing of wraiths that had moved out away from my plateau to slaughter hapless guardians were rapidly being approached by countless scourges.
     So I moved them back over my missile towers…
     That massacre turned into another score raising event for me and I was once again allowed to concentrate on more important matters.  I gathered up my force of battlecruisers, now numbering ten, and ventured out to attack and rid myself of the last annoyance.  The battlecruiser fleet was making its way over some of my enemy’s ground forces when I received a communication from him.  It was rather unintelligable, but I do remember it being some sort of explicative of shock at seeing the battlecruiser fleet, and a few moments afterward, my strategy-minded foe surrendered.  This surprised me, as he had seemed so intent on fighting to the bitter end, and also because ten battlecruisers had never been anything myself or my previous opponents necessarily immediately flee from.  Nevertheless, my adversaries had so proven their lack of any ability, I shrugged and went to see the scoreboard.
     Everything so far I had seen was a pathetic enough experience, but then looking at the numbers summed up the final tragedy:

     Average score per n.w. moron          40,000-50,000
     Terran score                                      300,000

     Average units destroyed per n.w. moron       23-40
     Units Terrans had destroyed                          856

     Sad.  I suppose you could call me a Sim-City warrior.  Of course, I would then have to say you must not actually know how to conduct a battle for longer that 5 minutes in Starcraft.  I do not so much brag about my ability; I know others who are better.  I simply must point out that there is no shortage of opponents who just suck.

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