08-18-2005, 09:07 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-18-2005, 09:17 PM by RuNnInG_wIth_ScISsOrS.)
Due to certain people's non-linear behavior, I'm creating a more "general" ricochet history thread. Feel free to contribute at any time.
Disclaimer: I will note that, from this point on, this recount does not reflect the opinions of any of the perpetrators involved, and is simply a recollection of my own thoughts and actions of the time. Laughter and variety are some of the spices of life, so I would hope we can all look back and enjoy different events for what they are. Also I'd like to point out that things involving the prime order of quotations, 'RWS, you are a terrible person and I hope you contract VD one day,' reflect statements that are more or less based on fact.;)
Our wonderful little tale of ricochet, the mod that could, begins back in the summer of love known as 2001. CS Retail had just been released, and people were wandering through the myriad of mods included in this price gouge of a bundle. This was when I, rws the cliche, originally stepped out on to the scene. After happening upon the gem that was ricochet with multiple friends, we all got into it and began playing together. Soon after, the TFC 1.1.0.5 (which included ricochet) was released to all Half-Life owners. At this point, ricochet immediately transformed into a barren wasteland of vapid stupidity and mayhem (little has changed, harhar), garnering an enormous (1000ish?) amount of servers compared to present day. This saw the emergence of such players as Shuttlecock, when simply shooting over the bar or being able to jump from the middle-back pad to the middle pads put you among the upper echelon of players.
Soon Ricochet entered the era Cloud previously described, as the community began to condense and "icons" emerged. This was about the time I dropped off the map, and ricochet was taken to an entirely new level. Fast foward about 9 months to May 2002 as I emerge from my cacoon to conquer the digital world in a haphazard and generally useless fashion. This was just about the time uT formed, and Shakira/Strider were generally considered the best, with some of the more "old school" players drifting away. About this time I ended up meeting Johnnykill, who, after seeing me play, eloquently stated, "who r u?" I understood that this must be a test of some sort, a taste of the things their inner, elite circle offered. I quickly sprung into action as I rebutted, "Of whom do you speak, kind sir? I am but a weary traveler from across the mountain. My village sent me to retrieve medicinal supplies from the city beyond the pass, as my sister has fallen very ill. I fear her time is running short, and I must make all due haste if there is to be any hope for her survival." Johnny didn't miss a beat, as he swiftly elbowed my insult aside, "wanna join my clan?" Outraged at this treason, there was only one thing for me to say, "Sure."
And thus, =-=}][MoH][{=-= was born, with perhaps the ugliest tag the internet has ever seen. Whilst I was under the alias Mp, Chentvin shortly joined along with a few other talented players. The potential was there for greatness, for perfection, but alas, the good die young. Our valiant leader quickly hamstrung the clan, and MoH was left in a battered and broken state. I did not have the heart to face those troubled times, so I departed, and sought new adventures in new lands. As the elder months of summer approached, a new player emerged from among the teeming, mildly-stupid masses. It was the lovely player GRITS. This courageous gal, in all likelihood, does not think that anyone remembers (other than perhaps reb) the time or place of her very humble origins, but alas, we cannot all be so lucky. However, I quickly realized I had been deceived by her charming exterior; moments after our meeting, she launched into a brutal and vicious hostile takeover of the arena monopoly, shoving the NOH servers aside without a second thought. I tried to dissuade her from partaking in the power struggle, but all reason was lost on her, as actual admins began to actually administrate the arena server she had paid for. Truly horrendous.
During GRITS' mad grab for power along with her second in command, Rebaudo, I had joined the clan iQ. If I remember correctly, it was noxious, powered by god, magoo, slasher-186, and I. Did we know what it stood for? No. Did we care? Probably. Forming our merry band of half-wits and hooligans, we really had no idea why we even created the clan, so we decided to try to kick ass and slightly remember names. My only explanation for this trivial endeavor was the bombardment of outside influences. The cool thing to do was be in a clan, and the pressure to do as such permeated the very air, choking and pushing you to foolishly let go of any sense of self and join a greater collective that would eventually break apart as people moved on with their lives whether it be job, family, or education!
Spanning my eventful tenure in iQ, I was lucky enough to encounter a more âeclecticâ group of individuals. One such of these individuals included a player by the name of acidhead. After a few encounters with said persona, I quickly came to one, simple conclusion. This guy was one of the biggest morons I had ever met over the internet. Naturally, we became fast friends. Now, another of these outlandish and eccentric characters was Gwarsbane. While his name offered nowhere near the defining details of acidâs, it held its own puzzles and dilemmas. What was a gwarsbane? Why did I care? This conundrum stretched on in a paradoxical loop that, in true rws fashion, I simply forgot about.
These two were like, well, acid_head and Gwarsbane. They simply did not click. Watching them interact was uncomfortable and emotionally upsetting, paralleling that moment when you realized youâve been living a lie because Paris Hilton is neither a natural blonde nor does she actually have blue eyes. Acid and Gwar fought many a battle, some so epic in scope that only a work rivaling the Bible and Iliad could do them justice. Actually, I think just about that amount was written on the subject, but luckily for you, I am too lazy to go through the various volumes of material.
Inevitably, this bitter rivalry came to climax on the morning of June 2, 2003. I, myself, had awoken that morning at 4:00 AM in a sweat, a shiver of gut-wrenching proportions transpiring through my body. The very air had an unwelcoming sneer to it, each gasp being a physical labor that brought me closer to the brink of exhaustion. Something sinister was approaching, and I knew something had to be done. My mind began to race at a frantic and frenetic pace, why was I being so redundant? Why was I awake at 4 AM? I promptly leapt into action as I passed out on the floor, face angled for maximum exposure to the elements. By the sunâs rise I had forgotten the incident, and life was good. My how ignorance blankets us in complete bliss.
It was then that I, curious about the world around me, played an innocent game of ricochet. Filled with wonder and intrigue, I ventured forth onto the server. I had seen the fruit of temptation, and now it was time to taste. However, such feelings of new-found joy never last, and as soon as my feet hit the pad, I knew something was wrong. I couldnât quite pin point the source of my uneasiness, even looking around I saw nothing to justify my worries, but still, I just couldnât shake this feeling of foreboding. So I kept careful vigil, hoping I wouldnât be taken unaware. It was then that the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, bringing us closer to the brink of the abyss. Thatâs right, acid_head had joined the server. Alone this would be no cause for worry, but earlier events, that I will outline later, had lined up the pins. It was then that it happened, Gwarsbane joined the server. My eyes squinted as I questioned whether to take immediate leave, or stick around for hilarityâs sake. I think we all know what I decided to do. Things quickly escalated, culminating in Exhibit A:
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:40: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "yand deserves a 600 minute ban"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:43: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "right gwar?"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:45: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "you jackass"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:55: "Gwarsbane<717><43118><717>" say "ok ACID thats it your gone"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:59: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "hahahaha"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:01:02: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "again"
Drama. After acidâs expulsion from Gritsâ servers, the forums erupted in flames as various factions fought for positioning in the aftermath of the onslaught. Villages were pillaged, crops were burned, and a lot of boring stuff was written that I never read. However, certain comments could not fail to catch the eye, Iâll give you the sports highlights.
Getting mad at dozens of comments? Unthinkable! Take note, boys and girls, you have to get mad after the first negative statement. And you thought you wouldnât learn anything today. Hereâs another userâs insightful input, Iâll give you two quotes for added accuracy.
Indeed, the battles were bloody, and I lost many a friend in that haunting massacre. Now, to look at the catalyst of this devastating event, we need to go back nearly a month, to the night of May 12, 2003. I shall now present Exhibit B:
L 05/12/2003 - 02:24:58: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<739><128083><739>" say "iryiciayad,sjbmtoherhfucvjekr"
I know what youâre thinking. âWow, acidâs typing has really improved, I can almost read what heâs saying now.â Alas, this was written under the influence, which improved his skill as a typist exponentially. I would post more of the log, but apparently it was lost in the Great Flood of 2004, this is all that remains of that precious material. As we have all extrapolated, this does indeed say âI r a her, jekr.â I can only assume acid misspelled jerk. Through expert testimony, he has told me that he did indeed have 1 or 2 beers, and remembers very little from that night. So based off the witness account of no one, I shall now rebuild the night in question.
Acid, arriving at his apartment on a recently stolen bike (being the responsible adult he is, he realized he was too drunk to drive), knew he was at the height of his game thanks to the wonder that is alcohol. Subsequently, he quickly joined Gritsâ arena server. He could only look on in horror as he realized his grave mistake. There stood Gwarsbane, nemesis extraordinaire, staring him down with steely eyes of steeliness. Recoiling in disgust, acid knew that only a gentlemanâs duel could slay this intimidating beast. Following proper procedure, they engaged in pre-insult exchange. This eventually came to a crescendo when Gwarsbane supposedly laid down judgment, 'YOU DARE DEFY ME? I AM THE LAW!' Acid, strengthening his resolve, parried, 'Grits should move the server to Germany, 1937 so youâd feel right at home, gwar.' Gwarsbane, being the gentleman that he is, commended acid on his well-timed retort, 'Impressive, I must say that was quite the broad side attack.' Acid, able to take a compliment, 'You flatter me. Itâs simply a common reiteration of an even more common insult.' Gwarsbane, perfectly in stride with the ways of the cavalier, simply stated, 'Ah, but its execution was flawless.' Now, where were we?
'Bannings and what not.' It was at this point that acid passed out on his keyboard, creating a pool of drool that later forced him to buy a new keyboard. Luckily for us, before he did so, his head happened to roll in such a way as to create a secret message that only the most astute of observers would notice. Thatâs right, iryiciayad,sjbmtoherhfucvjekr. Gwarsbane, master cryptologist, leapt into action as he quickly transferred it to 3 of his buddies down at the bureau. They confirmed the worst of his fears. Acid had indeed tried to camouflage the statement, âI r a her, jekr.â Gwarsbane was outraged, CALL ME A JERK? THIS ENDS NOW! Thus, [*RiP*]_Acid_Head_ was banned for 600 minutes, tipping the domino line that eventually led to his permanent ban. Ricochet has never been the same.
Disclaimer: I will note that, from this point on, this recount does not reflect the opinions of any of the perpetrators involved, and is simply a recollection of my own thoughts and actions of the time. Laughter and variety are some of the spices of life, so I would hope we can all look back and enjoy different events for what they are. Also I'd like to point out that things involving the prime order of quotations, 'RWS, you are a terrible person and I hope you contract VD one day,' reflect statements that are more or less based on fact.;)
Our wonderful little tale of ricochet, the mod that could, begins back in the summer of love known as 2001. CS Retail had just been released, and people were wandering through the myriad of mods included in this price gouge of a bundle. This was when I, rws the cliche, originally stepped out on to the scene. After happening upon the gem that was ricochet with multiple friends, we all got into it and began playing together. Soon after, the TFC 1.1.0.5 (which included ricochet) was released to all Half-Life owners. At this point, ricochet immediately transformed into a barren wasteland of vapid stupidity and mayhem (little has changed, harhar), garnering an enormous (1000ish?) amount of servers compared to present day. This saw the emergence of such players as Shuttlecock, when simply shooting over the bar or being able to jump from the middle-back pad to the middle pads put you among the upper echelon of players.
Soon Ricochet entered the era Cloud previously described, as the community began to condense and "icons" emerged. This was about the time I dropped off the map, and ricochet was taken to an entirely new level. Fast foward about 9 months to May 2002 as I emerge from my cacoon to conquer the digital world in a haphazard and generally useless fashion. This was just about the time uT formed, and Shakira/Strider were generally considered the best, with some of the more "old school" players drifting away. About this time I ended up meeting Johnnykill, who, after seeing me play, eloquently stated, "who r u?" I understood that this must be a test of some sort, a taste of the things their inner, elite circle offered. I quickly sprung into action as I rebutted, "Of whom do you speak, kind sir? I am but a weary traveler from across the mountain. My village sent me to retrieve medicinal supplies from the city beyond the pass, as my sister has fallen very ill. I fear her time is running short, and I must make all due haste if there is to be any hope for her survival." Johnny didn't miss a beat, as he swiftly elbowed my insult aside, "wanna join my clan?" Outraged at this treason, there was only one thing for me to say, "Sure."
And thus, =-=}][MoH][{=-= was born, with perhaps the ugliest tag the internet has ever seen. Whilst I was under the alias Mp, Chentvin shortly joined along with a few other talented players. The potential was there for greatness, for perfection, but alas, the good die young. Our valiant leader quickly hamstrung the clan, and MoH was left in a battered and broken state. I did not have the heart to face those troubled times, so I departed, and sought new adventures in new lands. As the elder months of summer approached, a new player emerged from among the teeming, mildly-stupid masses. It was the lovely player GRITS. This courageous gal, in all likelihood, does not think that anyone remembers (other than perhaps reb) the time or place of her very humble origins, but alas, we cannot all be so lucky. However, I quickly realized I had been deceived by her charming exterior; moments after our meeting, she launched into a brutal and vicious hostile takeover of the arena monopoly, shoving the NOH servers aside without a second thought. I tried to dissuade her from partaking in the power struggle, but all reason was lost on her, as actual admins began to actually administrate the arena server she had paid for. Truly horrendous.
During GRITS' mad grab for power along with her second in command, Rebaudo, I had joined the clan iQ. If I remember correctly, it was noxious, powered by god, magoo, slasher-186, and I. Did we know what it stood for? No. Did we care? Probably. Forming our merry band of half-wits and hooligans, we really had no idea why we even created the clan, so we decided to try to kick ass and slightly remember names. My only explanation for this trivial endeavor was the bombardment of outside influences. The cool thing to do was be in a clan, and the pressure to do as such permeated the very air, choking and pushing you to foolishly let go of any sense of self and join a greater collective that would eventually break apart as people moved on with their lives whether it be job, family, or education!
Spanning my eventful tenure in iQ, I was lucky enough to encounter a more âeclecticâ group of individuals. One such of these individuals included a player by the name of acidhead. After a few encounters with said persona, I quickly came to one, simple conclusion. This guy was one of the biggest morons I had ever met over the internet. Naturally, we became fast friends. Now, another of these outlandish and eccentric characters was Gwarsbane. While his name offered nowhere near the defining details of acidâs, it held its own puzzles and dilemmas. What was a gwarsbane? Why did I care? This conundrum stretched on in a paradoxical loop that, in true rws fashion, I simply forgot about.
These two were like, well, acid_head and Gwarsbane. They simply did not click. Watching them interact was uncomfortable and emotionally upsetting, paralleling that moment when you realized youâve been living a lie because Paris Hilton is neither a natural blonde nor does she actually have blue eyes. Acid and Gwar fought many a battle, some so epic in scope that only a work rivaling the Bible and Iliad could do them justice. Actually, I think just about that amount was written on the subject, but luckily for you, I am too lazy to go through the various volumes of material.
Inevitably, this bitter rivalry came to climax on the morning of June 2, 2003. I, myself, had awoken that morning at 4:00 AM in a sweat, a shiver of gut-wrenching proportions transpiring through my body. The very air had an unwelcoming sneer to it, each gasp being a physical labor that brought me closer to the brink of exhaustion. Something sinister was approaching, and I knew something had to be done. My mind began to race at a frantic and frenetic pace, why was I being so redundant? Why was I awake at 4 AM? I promptly leapt into action as I passed out on the floor, face angled for maximum exposure to the elements. By the sunâs rise I had forgotten the incident, and life was good. My how ignorance blankets us in complete bliss.
It was then that I, curious about the world around me, played an innocent game of ricochet. Filled with wonder and intrigue, I ventured forth onto the server. I had seen the fruit of temptation, and now it was time to taste. However, such feelings of new-found joy never last, and as soon as my feet hit the pad, I knew something was wrong. I couldnât quite pin point the source of my uneasiness, even looking around I saw nothing to justify my worries, but still, I just couldnât shake this feeling of foreboding. So I kept careful vigil, hoping I wouldnât be taken unaware. It was then that the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, bringing us closer to the brink of the abyss. Thatâs right, acid_head had joined the server. Alone this would be no cause for worry, but earlier events, that I will outline later, had lined up the pins. It was then that it happened, Gwarsbane joined the server. My eyes squinted as I questioned whether to take immediate leave, or stick around for hilarityâs sake. I think we all know what I decided to do. Things quickly escalated, culminating in Exhibit A:
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:40: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "yand deserves a 600 minute ban"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:43: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "right gwar?"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:45: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "you jackass"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:55: "Gwarsbane<717><43118><717>" say "ok ACID thats it your gone"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:00:59: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "hahahaha"
L 06/02/2003 - 01:01:02: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<715><128083><715>" say "again"
Drama. After acidâs expulsion from Gritsâ servers, the forums erupted in flames as various factions fought for positioning in the aftermath of the onslaught. Villages were pillaged, crops were burned, and a lot of boring stuff was written that I never read. However, certain comments could not fail to catch the eye, Iâll give you the sports highlights.
Quote:Someone's awful thinskinned today I see. â¦I thought that Acid wanted us to forget about him so he could go about his life.
Getting mad at dozens of comments? Unthinkable! Take note, boys and girls, you have to get mad after the first negative statement. And you thought you wouldnât learn anything today. Hereâs another userâs insightful input, Iâll give you two quotes for added accuracy.
Quote:I WILL BELIEVE GWARS OVER YOU ANY DAY OF THE WEEK SO EITHER FOLLOW THE RULES OR STOP PLAYING THE GAME. JUST STOP THE ***I'm Stupid for Swearing***ING
Quote:i said "that is ***I'm Stupid for Swearing***" in IRC and he warned me and im sick of his goodie 2 shoes policing bullshit so i said so and he banned me.
Indeed, the battles were bloody, and I lost many a friend in that haunting massacre. Now, to look at the catalyst of this devastating event, we need to go back nearly a month, to the night of May 12, 2003. I shall now present Exhibit B:
L 05/12/2003 - 02:24:58: "[*RiP*]_Acid_Head_<739><128083><739>" say "iryiciayad,sjbmtoherhfucvjekr"
I know what youâre thinking. âWow, acidâs typing has really improved, I can almost read what heâs saying now.â Alas, this was written under the influence, which improved his skill as a typist exponentially. I would post more of the log, but apparently it was lost in the Great Flood of 2004, this is all that remains of that precious material. As we have all extrapolated, this does indeed say âI r a her, jekr.â I can only assume acid misspelled jerk. Through expert testimony, he has told me that he did indeed have 1 or 2 beers, and remembers very little from that night. So based off the witness account of no one, I shall now rebuild the night in question.
Acid, arriving at his apartment on a recently stolen bike (being the responsible adult he is, he realized he was too drunk to drive), knew he was at the height of his game thanks to the wonder that is alcohol. Subsequently, he quickly joined Gritsâ arena server. He could only look on in horror as he realized his grave mistake. There stood Gwarsbane, nemesis extraordinaire, staring him down with steely eyes of steeliness. Recoiling in disgust, acid knew that only a gentlemanâs duel could slay this intimidating beast. Following proper procedure, they engaged in pre-insult exchange. This eventually came to a crescendo when Gwarsbane supposedly laid down judgment, 'YOU DARE DEFY ME? I AM THE LAW!' Acid, strengthening his resolve, parried, 'Grits should move the server to Germany, 1937 so youâd feel right at home, gwar.' Gwarsbane, being the gentleman that he is, commended acid on his well-timed retort, 'Impressive, I must say that was quite the broad side attack.' Acid, able to take a compliment, 'You flatter me. Itâs simply a common reiteration of an even more common insult.' Gwarsbane, perfectly in stride with the ways of the cavalier, simply stated, 'Ah, but its execution was flawless.' Now, where were we?
'Bannings and what not.' It was at this point that acid passed out on his keyboard, creating a pool of drool that later forced him to buy a new keyboard. Luckily for us, before he did so, his head happened to roll in such a way as to create a secret message that only the most astute of observers would notice. Thatâs right, iryiciayad,sjbmtoherhfucvjekr. Gwarsbane, master cryptologist, leapt into action as he quickly transferred it to 3 of his buddies down at the bureau. They confirmed the worst of his fears. Acid had indeed tried to camouflage the statement, âI r a her, jekr.â Gwarsbane was outraged, CALL ME A JERK? THIS ENDS NOW! Thus, [*RiP*]_Acid_Head_ was banned for 600 minutes, tipping the domino line that eventually led to his permanent ban. Ricochet has never been the same.