Ladies and Gentlemen of the forum, I do some of my best work when only half my brain does. With that, I give you the following. If I wrote it at some point, and it has to do with SMNC or the forums, I'll stick it here over time. First off, a story Haiku (5-7-5) involving a specific Pro and the Outlanders. ______________________________ Freedom has a price. Temper grows with each gene splice. End their avarice. Outland, grim and bare. Where no one can live, they do. Planning. Biding time. Things are riskier. Left unannounced. Search for her. Planning on a cure. Outland, grey with ash. Sundered fields, broken people. Mended. Stronger still. The tests aren't working. Gone. Absent. Missing. Shirking. Where is she lurking? Outland, black hands reach. Charred, bitter, grieved, and vengeful. Grazing on gold gates. Freedom, it draws near! Bloody streaks pave the way clear. Nothing left to fear. Outland, steeled with hate. Now the masses conjugate. Justice, Bloodlust sate! Sister, Seal their fate! Outland, Breach the golden gate! Sister, Activate! Charges set, shatter. Once great peaks, now much flatter. Enter, grey matter. Ivory Tower. Climb. Take their seat of power. Crush it to flour. Free. Liberated. Once apart, now related. Greed, Sloth, abated. *** A Hope. Dreams for Man. Sniper has another plan. Play, while you can. ___________________________________________ Following that, an Ode to Scathis. (7-8-8-7. End 6) Ooooh Who is he to do or die That cannot confirm nor deny To tell a truth within a lie And be constant in a change? Who is it that duth defy The Rules given from up on high To make the masses wonder why And befriends just to estrange? (Tis) He which all we know for true Is that his wife's hair just turned blue The rest we haven't got a clue Since it alters every day Layman's terms he duth eschew His answer one cannot construe To try to pinpoint his purview Would make a mind decay ___________________ Creation date: 1/14/2012 An overview of the MNC universe, with a non-canon explanation of the creation of SMNC and decommissioning of Uncle Tully's Arena. SMNC is the newest season of MNC. To increase fan count for advertisements, endorsements, food tube sales, and such, the Overclass has opted to make this season far more exotic and exciting than any season previously. New Pros are being created constantly to add more spice and variety for the audience, as well as create new rivalries. Some are voted on from eons of famous stars and data stored in DNA banks, some are hand crafted for a specific result. Everything is done to strongly boost the sales and viewers of SMNC. While SMNC is the most popular entertainment sport in the world, it is not a monopoly. More than likely, it's an oligopoly. This is hyper-capitalism, and they're still trying to squelch the other conglomerate enemies out of the entertainment business. Mickey Cantor gives insights to the outside world. The state of food and the worth of human life, other entertainment options, etc. We also see that the education system and semi-natural family units still exist from the Assassin's bio. Other bios give us some more details on the outside world, such at it being reduced to several patches of metropolitan society, then ashen wastelands or unpopulated areas of Outlander territory. We have three major groups. The Overclass is a controlling council/caste of incomprehensible wealth. They are essentially all equivalent to CEO's, tax philanthropists, and the like that are greedily trying to keep as much capital at the top as possible and make only their localized areas better. The Outlanders are members of society that , to their viewpoint, threw off the shackles of metropolitan life as drudges in order to live as free men out in the wild lands. They are small in population, but incredibly fierce. Some plot constantly against the Overclass, some try to avoid it all together and focus on their form of life. The final group is the Underclass. The common men and women that make of the fervent fandom of SMNC. They are culled for population standards, sometimes cloned, and have a skewed reality compared to that of our own. One could quickly assume that due to the low value of life, food standards, and government observance that their life is worse than ours, but that's a very subjective item that can't be plainly laid out without more detail. Companies of note: Helios Corporation: Developer of sciences and technology that allow the forecasting. altering, and creation of weather conditions. Creator of the annihilator, a large machine that is capable of making controlled thunderstorms. Average bolt strength is 1.21 gigawatts. Controller of Spance, the union of France, Spain, and several other nations. The Steel Peel Arena was created as one of the terms in Spance's acquisition. Spunky Cola: Creator of highly addictive soft drink substance. Had an arena built in Southern Sector, North America due to the Synthetic Sugar Accord. Uncle Tully's: Creator of "Uncle Tully's Original Organ Highlighters", which saw common use during the early seasons of MNC. As better stimulants came out with the rapid acceleration of technology, the company came down on harder times, which saw the closing of the Uncle Tully's MNC arena until it's return in the "Throwback Throwdown". The Throwback Throwdown recieved mixed reviews but was an overall failure to entice fans. It was one major factors that helped push the radical changes to the newest season, SMNC. The second largest factor the Tully's revival failing was the "puerta de doce" incident. Uncle Tully's feeding stations were redone to allow the inclusion of meter long Churros. The Flaming Churros were an incredible fan favorite, but unfortunately, resulted in consistent need to use the restroom facilities. While the food outlets were refurbished, the size and amount of restrooms were not. No less than two months into the Throwback Throwdown, an event was held in place for the Assault - the newest Pro at the time - nearing 3000 kills to enter the 3K Kill Club. It stated that if the Assault were to reach his 3000th kill during the Tully's match, free Churros would be given out to every attendee. The kill count was achieved, and fans rejoiced. Other than long lines, no issues were caused by the rush to the new food stations. Over the course of the next hour, however, the entire stadium began to drastically increase their restroom activity. Lines became globs, and the wait was insufferable. As the underclass grew restless, eyes turned to Restroom Door Number 12 (puerta de doce), the VIP booth only restroom that was largely underused. Fans rushed the door in frenzy only to find it locked by the current VIP users. The resulting crush of human bodies resulted in hundreds of accidental deaths. The aftermath of being denied restroom access resulted in thousands upon thousands more injuries and psychological trauma. Uncle Tully's Funland was permanently decommissioned. Over the course of the next several days, innumerable janitorial squads attempted to clean the aftermath in order to use the space for other needs, as the foundations were still good. This ended, and the Overclass opted to raze the entire wooden stadium to the ground to prevent the stench from traveling to nearby cities.
Next up, the tale of Mr. Controversy. Anyone who has watched Monday Night Combat knows the name Mickey Cantor. Some see him as a charming announcer and leave him at that, others read into his idle comments about personal life and might get a chuckle out of it, but who really knows about the man behind the microphone? From what we can tell, Mickey Nafarez Cantor was born into a quiet life. Working as a child on the Cantor family farm in New Hampshire starting at age 3 (Hardship Labor Law Revision of 2150), Mickey could be mistaken for any other Underclass laborer tending to the fields and discardable foodwastes. Things were calm for most of the seasons thanks most to the Helios Corporation, who had been doing business with Cantor's family for three generations. While the farm focused on agriculture - mainly grapes for the Spunky Cola Company, wheat, and assorted vegetables - there was a slaughterhouse on site. Several varieties of animals were kept by the Cantor family, primarily pigs for bacon, and during Mickey's time as a child he was taught how to care for each one. Things on the farm would not always stay they way they were, however, as the youngest member of the Cantor family was about to make a bond that would not soon be forgotten. At age 7, Mickey Cantor learned the true meaning of friendship. The Cantor family farm had recently incorporated a chicken coop in order to take advantage of egg scarcity in what was once the South and Mid-West portions of The United States of America (Now part of CANica, as per the Synthetic Sugar Accord which gave land and governing rights of all Canadian and American soil to Spunky Cola and allied affiliates). As with all tasks on the farm, Mickey was expected to master the art of tending to the chickens and be responsible for their behavior. It was here in the pens where Mickey would make his first, predominant, and permanent friend - Chickey Cantor (http://simplethrift.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/chickey-cantor11.jpg). Mickey and Chickey we're the "best of pals", as far as our sources can tell, and enjoyed several months of bliss together. Then, tragedy struck. No one knows the exact details, but 5 months and 18 days into Mickey's 7th year, a terrible fire broke out across the Cantor family ranch. The flames consumed millions worth of crops and grapes, but surprisingly did manage to create some instant revenue in low-quality bacon. Reportedly, the fires spawned from the chicken coop grounds. Chickey Cantor was put to blame, and then to axe. The loss of a best friend nearly shattered Mickey at such a young age. Taken from his own testimony in the resulting trial (see Spunky Cola Company vs Cantor Farms), "Chickey would never do anything bad! He's a good chicken, I swear! The other chickens - they kept getting jealous of him! It was Blume and King, I promise!". Whatever the case may be, the ensuing lawsuit by Spunky Cola and loss of harvest from the incident left the Cantor family in a poor position. Though he stayed on the farm for years after, helping scrape back what was lost, Mickey Cantor would eventually have to find work elsewhere. Mention of Mickey Cantor seems to be lost for long periods of time in between the Chickey Conflagration and his current employment as Monday Night Combat's Announcer. Generally, these spots of light in a dark period of Mickey's life come in the form of criminal experiences. Such things involve male dancing, juice fermenting off-site of the Spunky Cola factory, and gambling debts. However, through extensive data diving, word of mouth, and backtracking, we have uncovered the origins of Mickey's rise to sports announcing. We find Mickey Cantor over a decade after the Chickey Conflagration, 20 years of age, working in Bothell, Washington. A local event area, Country Village, had recently been bought out by Stevenson Family Organ Farms to be used as a marketing ploy while they set up shop in the state (Competition in Illinois was increasing, and cheaper organs could be harvested in Washington). As part of the marketing scheme, a massive target arena had been constructed on the event grounds, and all locals were inclined to test their skills - before and after using Stevenson Family supplements. Locked away in the storage rooms of the now decommissioned stadium (see Sniper Clone Competition Catastrophe), perhaps one of the earliest recordings of Monday Night Combat's longest standing Announcer were found. Run.Audiofile Mickey_Nafarez_Cantor_00125: "It's another wonderful day for shooting and supplements down at the Stevenson Farm's Coriolis Championship folks! Our 5 remaining sharpshooters have proved their mettle. We've seen bullets go true through fog, curve up to their targets on superheated air, and even fly straight through KEYHOLES! What could possibly be up next?" (Sounds of grinding machinery can be heard. According to records, mirrors and frames with reflective transparent material begin to be angled across the vast stadium at various heights) "Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, as I said, we've seen just about every way to hit a hanging target tonight, but this final round is Sudden Death. Our competitors should be reminded of the waivers they signed prior to beginning the championship, because this is where they come into play! For this final round, all five sharpshooters will be aiming at each other with their rifles by ricocheting the rounds off of the hanging walls! Now don't worry, these are electrical discharge pellets, NOT designed to kill. Of course the shock could leave you incapacitated for a few months BUT YOU'LL BE FINE! Now, lets get to the action!" (Several shots can be heard, amplified in the echoing stadium by the ricochets, soon the first take-down is landed.) "BUUUUUUULLLLSEEEEYE! Man, that has got to hurt, folks! Four more to go!" (Shots proceed to be fired. What seem to be close misses cause gasps from the crowd. A shrill cry of pain is heard, and then even more cheering.) "WHAT?! AMAZING! Two opponents down - AND FROM THE SAME COMPETITOR! BUUUUuuuuUUUUULLSEYE!" (A sudden crack is heard, the now infamous sizzling and crowd "awing" follows suite) "Oh, tough luck, folks. It seems our lead sharpshooter's taken the blow"' (Rounds continue to be fired, the crowd's uproar quieting down as misses continue to occur. Time drags on as no hits are landed.) "Looks like this is going to be a lengthy one with only two shooters left. Who knows how long it could - (A bullet whizzes past the audio recording device, nearly shorting it out. A painfully audible thump and sizzle can be heard as the audience gasps.) "What the?! Where did that bullet come - wait - GET THE MICROPHONE UP ON THAT SIDE, NOW!" (The audio screeches and goes to a beep for a few seconds. Something can be heard short circuiting.) Unidentified voice: "..-id not hurt me!" (Mickey appears to force the microphone channel back to him, screaming almost inaudibly as his voice gets high and hoarse. The crowd, now aware of what has taken place on the field, is in uncontrollable fervor.) "UNBELIEVABLE! UNBELIEVABLE! THE LEAD SHARPSHOOTER IS BACK UP FROM A GLANCING BLOW AN-" (A crack can be heard with the audience screaming impossibly louder, audio connection is nearly severed. Incoherent noise fills the stream for seconds until the audience noise is dampened by someone at the controls.) "...EIVE IT! IT'S OVER! IT'S OVER! ALL OTHER COMPETITORS ARE DOWN! FOUR ON ONE! BULLSEYE! BUUUUUUUUULLLLLLSEEEEEEYYYEEEEEE! HIIIIIYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ---..." (Audio dies, the decibel level too great for the machine to handle) Washington Richter scale records hold that the sheer power of sound waves coming from the area measured as 2.5 within a radius of 50 miles. Research done on the casing that formed the dome of the Stevenson arena display extensive damage was caused to the integrity of the facility due to metal vibrations. It would seem this historical event sent several gears into motion, as well as coining a catch phrase (and possibly a mascot name). Intriguingly, the sharpshooter's name is never given. The signed waivers discussed in the audio reel were never discovered, and the sharpshooter appears to have little mention after the event. Most researchers chalk this up to living happy off of prize money. Within two days, Mickey Nafarez Cantor's name is known worldwide as an up and coming sports announcer. Several audio-only interviews are done (when asked why not to make an appearance, Mickey pledged "No Comment"), and Cantor's name is picked out of a raffle to be a contestant for the Monday Night Combat Announcer position. This marks what is perhaps the most infamous part of Mickey's career, as he is constantly put on trial throughout the announcer decision period for attempting to murder the opposing nominees. Whatever the truth may be, two of the five competitors were found deceased, the third caught in an attempted counter-assassination of Mickey Cantor, and the final contestant backing out of the competition before the final vote was taken. According to voter's polls at the time, it wouldn't have mattered much. The crowd was in love with Mickey's bloodlust, style, and zany tactics - dubbing him "Mr. Controversy" from a side comment taken during court accusations. When asked about the deaths of the two competitors, Mr. Cantor had this to say. "Look, I don't kill people. Don't believe me, just go ask the judge, he'll tell ya. So what if I worked on a ranch and there was a fire? So what if the first guy died because his house blew up? Accidents happen all the time - should've left his stove off. Oh, oh what? You're gonna tell me that I PLANNED to get myself incarcerated for stealing a carnival monkey just so I could get the cell next to the other contestant? I DIDN'T EVEN STEAL THAT MONKEY! IT WAS TRYING TO EAT THE BACON FROM MY POCKET. THAT BACON WAS MINE! Monkey should be jailed, if you ask me." Reporters pointed out that the first contestant's court case made no reference to a stove being left on. "Creative License. No other comment." Since officially starting work as Monday Night Combat's Announcer at age 21, Mickey Cantor has become even more of a worldwide sensation. His criminal (and fiscal) records making highlights throughout his career, Mickey has always kept the sport interesting even off the field. One of the more interesting controversies of Mr. Controversy was the love life he shared with his ex-wife. This story can be told in full in part 5 of Mr. Cantor's autobiography, The Banshee who Busted my Moneyballs. Mickey has also been an important religious icon, as in recent years he has taken to Baconism, becoming its most prominent and popular preacher (see Makin' Bacon, the Cantor Story). Additionally, the incorporation of Bullseye the Mascot into Monday Night Combat is generally considered to be one of Cantor's acts. Several interviews over the years have pointed out that strong anti-Cantor supporters and other "obstacle" citizens have consistently volunteered and won the right to play Bullseye in the deadliest of MNC matches, but no action has ever been taken. This now brings us to present day Mickey and Monday Night Combat. Incredibly, the Overclass has announced an immense revamp of the MNC system, dubbing it Super Monday Night Combat, and promises to have greater locales with greater suspense and even more competitive clones. One can only wonder what these amazing new matches will bring, and how the planet's favorite Announcer will take to the Mic. Any and all connections between Mickey Cantor and the Monkey Incarceration Act are poorly constructed, false, and vague at best.
An old favorite, started on the smallest of whims. *Knock Knock Knock* /Unsuspecting granny opens the door Granny: Hellooo? Vlane: G'day madam! I'm here to sell you a magnificent product! /pulls out and swiftly sets up standing jeweler's briefcase. A banner pops out of the front saying "Salt Salesman" Granny: Oh, well I'm already quite full on s- Vlane: Nonsense ya old hag! No one can ever get enough of what I've got! Now sit down on a chair with the hips my tax dollars are payin' for and listen up! Granny: Oh my... Vlane Aside: Looks like the opener's really putting on the charm, time to get serious! Vlane: Now see here missy, you ever have someone you really hate? Course you have, how can't you make a few enemies when you're as old as time itself! If the entire world loathes ya for being a wrinkly old sucker of their resources and inheritance, well you just go right ahead and loathe 'em right back ya old nag! Granny: I don't thi- Vlane: Quiet down, cash vampire, and let me show you what I've got! Now on the left here we've got your basic nutcrackers and ballbusters for the guys who messed with you in gradeschool when ya made cave paintings, and to the side of that we've got yer basic itching powders and bug attracters, but this is small stuff! I can see that you're a real competitive buyer! Granny: Well I- Vlane: We'll get to prices later, ya wrinkled reverse goldmine, but for now let me do the talkin. Now on the right here we've got some sterner stuff. Fake dog doo doo bombs, real dog doo doo bombs, and pre-packaged animal feces ready to ship to anyone in the continent - picked and sealed by yours truly! Just wait till they see what you've got in store for them, ho boy! Granny: Buy your sign says- MMPH! /Vlane plucks the fake teeth out of Granny's mouth Vlane: Sheesh, have to take your gabbers from ya so I can do the gabbin! You'll get these back once I've made my sale. /Vlane produces a cup of liquid and plops the teeth inside Vlane: Now listen here, ya plastic nostril jewelery wearing silent generation fossilized museum piece, I think you've made it very clear that you're not here for the little stuff. You've got the Cajones, the Chutspah to really get at somebody good! It's time to get to the BIG stuff! /Vlane reaches into his suit's inner pocket and produces several small vials Vlane: Cute little things aren't they? Don't let that fool ya, one whiff of half the stuff here will knock you deader than a doornail - not as if that matters to someone your age. The purple one's a special concoction of mine, makes em shed water out of every pore and orifice, killing em through dehydration like a raisin in the sun! This blue one's a bit ironic - think extremely condensed laughing gas. Killing em with kindness! Now this black one, oooh boy, you don't even want to know the TERRIBLE things I put into this o- /the Granny snatches her teeth out of the glass while Vlane is distracted Granny: What is all this you ruffian?! Your banner says "SALT SALESMAN"! Vlane: What? /Vlane looks down at the banner Vlane: Oh hoh, pardon me madam, seems there's been a typo on my occupation header! It should read "Spite Salesman", clearly. Now I can start you off with easy payments of your firstborn - lord knows I can't take a newborn from you now - and then 99 dollars per week for a year. Come to think of it let's make that full payment up front, I don't want to take my chances. So what will it be? Granny: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! /Granny starts pushing Vlane towards the door Vlane: Hey, hey now! That's quite some muscle you've got for a wheezing sack of lymph nodes, but come on! I've still got plenty of offers you'd be interested in! Granny: Out! Vlane: Mail Anthrax to your friends! Granny: OUT! Vlane: Whack your kids for you! They already had children right? Useless now! Granny: GET OUUUUT! /Granny shoves Vlane out the door, slamming and locking it behind her. She goes to sit down at the bottom of the stairwell, gasping from the effort. /Disgruntled, Vlane begins walking out from the house to the sidewalk, briefcase in hand. He stops halfway, and turns to shout at the house. Vlane: YOU KNOW, I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO SHOW YOU MY ASSORTMENT OF LIQUIDIZED POISONS AND PERIPHERIES! WHY I'VE GOT A CYANIDE SAMPLE IN A CUP RIGHT H- /Vlane pats the inside pocket of his suitcoat Vlane: Oh my... /Vlane swiftly speeds away, holding top hat to his head and coattails whipping behind.
A statement about balance systems, making several inside jokes about forum personalities. I'd imagine that, no matter what elo system you use, the initial skill curve will be a shallow, green slope at first. In time, it will become more rocky and steep, the hillside of Lulzathron disappears from view as the biting, snow-filled winds circle. Unfortunately, the top of Mount Getgudlulderson is a series of harsh crags and outcrops. Here, on these frigid terraces, live the Vlawpt. A race of giants who use their makeshift hammers to bash down any who attempt to ascend the peak of Getgudlulderson. Few, if any, have reached the true top of Getgudlulderson. Much is left to tales, heresay, and other unreliable sources. There lives a hermit on the steppes before Getgudlulderson who claims to "neither confirm nor deny" his ascension to the peak. If his stories are to be believed, there lives a menagerie of strange creatures among the Vlawpt. Hens wearing ties, barking foxes, and 'fluttering birds on winds of rage'. The Vlawpt, it seems, are not entirely isolated, as this one has found their sole trader of provisions. The man, dressed in rags and haggard, had this to say of the Vlawpt. "An odd band, surely. Why they're so protective of the peak is a bit of a mystery. They leave me alone, for the most part, but I spend the night on each trip since it's such a hard climb. They've got one main structure up there which I use, the Tower of Cheaze." ____ An old Moneyball Treatise on how to change the shields, created during the lively days of MNC. The following is a suggestion I have made in a separate, older thread in passing, but I have come to liking the idea more and more, especially since the change to 4k Moneyball health. What needs to be said before any form of discussion occurs or this proposal is read is that a change to Moneyball defense must occur. It doesn't have to be my version, it doesn't have to have 100% consent, but something needs to be done to better the way a Moneyball is defended. Currently, the Moneyball has two major layers of shielding, each requiring a bot of any kind to rupture (see below), before the moneyball goes down. If the Moneyball is attacked by a jackbot, a third minor layer comes into play. So the ways to down the moneyball are as follows. Three Jackbot Shots. Two bots (scrambler, gremlin, slimbot, blackjack, bouncer, buzzer*, gapshot**) One Jackbot shot proceeded by one bot. One bot proceeded by two Jackbot shots. These all seem acceptable ways of downing a Moneyball, and each requires the opponent to either be dominated or ignorant to succeed. The only issue I have with this stage is that the Moneyball doesn't always seem to regenerate from its minor ruptures. The main problem lies with what happens after the Moneyball goes down. It doesn't go back up. Any assassin with half a brain can continually suicide rush the Moneyball, pepper it with fire, and come back before 30 seconds is up. To an extent, all classes are capable of this. The action is preventable, but the chance of doing so is is microscopic outside of the most extreme defenses (and even then, exceptionally low). With the Moneyball having a 30 second timer which resets upon any amount of damage from any enemy, defense is a very hard task to complete. Defense is near nonexistent at 4k ball health. There have been several times where I've won a match not by defending my downed Moneyball, but by escorting bots into their ball and winning the Moneyball damage race by a landslide as an Assassin. What I propose is an alteration to how the Moneyball decides whether it raises its shields back up. This change will increase the amount of tactical decision that goes into assaulting the enemy base, continue the importance of Robots during the Moneyball-downed period, and most importantly increase the effectiveness of the defender's repulsions. The Proposal I put this in front with the hope to avoid unnecessary conflict. Each mathematical factor in this proposal is debatable. It isn't so much about my exact vision as it is the formula. When the Moneyball is downed, a timer of 30 seconds begins. A bar appears on each player's HUD in the top left underneath Moneyball health.*** This bar, painted red or blue depending on which ball is down, displayed what percentage the Moneyball is from regenerating its shields. Damage from bots and players is not affected by what percent this bar is at, and the bar is not accelerated in any way. When a player damages the ball, he/she slows, halts, or beats back the bar depending on how much damage is being done. I recommend the full on fire by one character to be around the amount needed to halt the bar (meaning more than one player on the ball will begin to beat it back). Bots continue to jump into the ball during overtime, and depending on what bot they are, they beat back the bar X % and deal damage. When the bar reaches 100%, the shields are raised, and the moneyball has 0 ruptures on it. What this means Offense ceases to be a bulwark, bullheaded action. With the advent of a stronger, multi-layered moneyball regeneration system (which is still easy to grasp), attackers will have much more to think about when they storm brazenly into the enemy base. This is Monday Night Combat, and thinking is good. When in the face of strong competition, the besieging party will have to plan actions more carefully, care more about the impact of their lives/activity on the field, and take better care of their mechanical compatriots. Incursion wedges in lanes must be widened, bot flow given better preservation, and the severity of a walk back from base is appropriately increased. Robots are an incredibly important asset during the normal stage of gameplay, and should continue to be during the Moneyball-downed period. It seems almost cruel to the bots that they're thrown out of the limelight so swiftly when everything up to the point of downing was about them. This game is designed to not be a mindless Call of Duty-esque shooter, and we need to instill that into every aspect of play. In the Assault's own words: "Remember, you're not just Robots, you're part of the Team!" With the moneyball not being instantly reset to 30 seconds by incoming damage, this system will make players more inclined to defend their base and not simply give up hope on the match. The current iteration of moneyball downing is far too punishing, and with the change to 4k health, game ending. This new version of Moneyball defense makes each and every kill - bot or pro - mean something very important. It gives the defender a greater sense of his actions, and a greater confidence to achieve his goals. The terrible, vorpal sound of a descending moneyball should not server as only a morale breaker. It should also be an eye-widener - a swift, cold slap across the face to the defending team. It can still weaken their resolve, but it should wake them up, make them more aware of what is going on in the field, and take action! Everything isn't lost, get back in that base, kick the bastards out, and GET BACK TO IT! In a closing statement, I'd like to say that I don't intend on insulting anyone's intelligence or be a rabble rouser. For all the dreadful word flinging I do in the heat of a match, this game is near and dear to me. I find that what this game is, what the most important factor is, is that its a step up. Games like Monday Night Combat put the brain back onto the keys and controllers of shooters. It gives them a good name, it makes them something better than the mire of reaction time clicks and deathmatches that plague the gaming community like a cancer. This game and those that created it have done a fine job, and give something to the community that it desperately needs. Monday Night Combat sets a standard for entertainment, for developers, and for the players themselves. When a game like this comes out on the blue moon and outshines the rest like a dam diamond in the rough, you'd best accept what's been given to you, but do what you can to make it gleam all the more. *If I recall correctly, a buzzer blowing up in proximity of the moneyball can cause a shield rupture, or it might be that they attack the moneyball if no other targets are available. ** I don't believe that gap shot artillery rounds can rupture a ball, but given enough time to waddle over to it, I think they jump on the ball, waggle their legs unceremoniously, then die. These occurrences are so incredibly rare, I can't remember exactly what happens. *** The bar is debatable. Should everyone see it, or just the defending team? Should no one see it? I use the term rupture to mean the injuring of the shields by 1/2 or 1/3 from Robots, and downing/downed for when it is vulnerable.
A song about winning in MNC, and how to do it. Follow these instructions: IN SSSSOOOnnNNG! Next, a holiday time post about threads that ought be locked. Because everyone loves products, __________ The Original Beta Player Consensus Paper, a text document from week 0 of Alpha will go here in the future, after release of SMNC. It stands as the collective opinions on how SMNC would hopefully work from the original beta players, and the opinions of each member have changed and/or altered over time.
i applaud you gray fox, what kind of beard does vlane have perchance? a bad salesman beard (beards reflect your soul).
I'd imagine so, something along the lines of a vizier beard. Stick that with a waxed, curled stache, and there ya go.
Edited in an overview of the SMNC universe as well as a non-canon explanation of Uncle Tully's Arena being decommissioned.
One could argue Gun Mountain uses the remains of Tully's funland. However, the encroaching blue zone seems off.
