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originally posted in: The War Of The Matches
9/13/2007 9:00:10 PM
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The worker’s rocket banged away and exploded straight in the Hacker machine’s face. To no effect. In response, the tentacle-esque limbs thrashed around to face the obstacle ahead of it. Exactly as when I tackled the first Hacker, the tentacles fired lances of utter black with horrific precision from their ends. The weapon would become known as the “Deletion Gun,” a device that, as the name suggests, deleted entire Xbox Live accounts in a single hit. With the defending heavy weapons already destroyed outside the walls, and the turrets sitting in smoking ruin, all that remained to those defenders not yet running was what they held in their hands. Some had Rocket Launchers or Grenade Launchers, but others weren’t as well equipped. Tracer bullets joined stitching lines of Plasma Rifle fire to smack into the thick hide of the machine. Brute Shot Grenade Launchers rattled off belt after belt of grenades at the monster and Rocket Launchers did the same. But it was all just bows and arrows against the lightning. Bullets bounced off it harmlessly, plasma dispersed on the armour without even so much as scorching it, and Grenades and Rockets burst harmlessly on the machine’s metallic skin. The machine took confident, lengthy strides over the smoking hulls of the destroyed Scorpions and heaved itself onto the wall, snapping all resolve to fight. What was the point in fighting something that scaled walls larger than a house, and could withstand so much punishment? Already out of anti-tank ammunition, the defenders were scythed down where they stood by the blistering rate of fire the machine laid down, and not a single shot missed. The walls were, after around ten seconds of the machine arriving, silent. My eyes widened as the machine turned to face us survivors solemnly. But suddenly, giving us one last hope came the Banshees. Having somehow escaped the malevolent attentions of the artillery and the machine thus far, the two aircraft came down on the Hacker construct at full throttle, engines screaming, and cannons blasting searing darts of plasma at the enemy. I was already through the Teleporter that we had been advised to flee through, and mercifully out of harm’s way by the time that the Banshees were swatted out of the sky. [b]And I fell in with the Baptist.[/b] Had the Hackers been a little faster in breaking into the “path” of matches that Bungie had secured for the safe passage of the players, then they could easily have annihilated the entire population after the rout from Containment. As it stands, they managed an admirable job regardless. As that Bungie worker back in Containment had told us, we were to follow a set of Teleporters form one match to another. The plan worked well in principle; the only problem was that the Hackers were tenacious and highly capable. It seemed no obstacle could hold back the Hacker machines, which had been labelled as Striders, for the way they seemed to stroll across the battlefield like it was a relaxing walk in the park. I was there to witness several holding actions end in failure at the hands of these Striders. The Hackers saw to it with their infernal artillery fire that no heavy weaponry could ever be deployed against them, and their Striders would storm in to finish off the job. Not once did a Strider fall to our fighters, while every holding action met with disaster. And every time a Strider triumphed, it would slaughter dozens of stragglers before they could escape, and hunted more down like dogs. Hundreds, it not thousands met the ends of their accounts like this. Yet still survivors fled toward the promise of safety that Bungie claimed was waiting for them. Having seen all of their attempts to protect us before fail miserably, I was not convinced. Also, somewhere-and I cannot recall where or when-along the line, I fell into the company of the Baptist. His MJOLNIR armour was painted white, and I do not know or care why. Easily identifiable as an American for his irritating, drawling accent, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get rid of him. Even the Striders kept shooting the wrong people when they had the chance. He frequently quoted Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan, a famous Baptist writer, on our arduous journey and making it no easier for the both of us. In fact, his favourite quote was: “He that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain in the congregation of the dead.” He repeated it to me countless times, in some personal mission of his to make me see that “The heathen Jews, Atheists and Agnostics” were orchestrating this disaster. I’m sure you can tell he was a very, very entertaining fellow, but for all the wrong reasons. Once, when we were waiting to head through a Teleporter to another match, he even led the hordes of faithful in a prayer session, much to my chagrin. Along the journey, when not trying to evangelise me or someone else, the Baptist often complained about what was unfolding around him. “Why are these things permitted? What sins have we done? My match was over, I was about to log out, and then- darkness, destruction, deletion! As if it were the slaughter of the Midianites! All our work deleted! All the work-What are these Hackers?” He would often exclaim with monotonous regularity. Whenever I told him to be quiet, he would do so for a short while before carrying on his diatribe about how secular minds were behind this. It was almost like listening to a Naz i newsreel, exhorting the lie that somehow Jews had infiltrated every part of German society and corrupted it; such was the incredulity of his claims. And, as two distinctive groups raised forces on either side of us-Players in front and Hackers behind-I was forced to listen to the ridiculous ramblings of a person I never wanted to meet. Admittedly, the thought of just running at the Hackers to avoid such torture did cross my mind more than once. Fortunately, I knew that I didn’t have long to go before I could be free of this burden. The match that Bungie had promised was achingly close
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