Part 1: This is John Galt Speaking: Live from Omerta, IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT!
We all know and love Jagged Alliance 2. It is undeniably a classic, soaring high on its own merits, while the fan-made 1.13 mod acts as a booster rocket, jetting the game into the stratosphere of infinite replayability. One of the ways to replay that game was explored by now-departed poster Solothurn in January of 2006. He began what he termed 'Project Gumpy,' an attempt to take the worst characters in JA2 and turn them into battle-hardened, stogie-chomping, ear-peeling, skin-frying soldiers, all under the watchful, cowardly eye of 'Young Hickory,' 11th American President James K. Polk. The thread was extremely funny, but it was, unfortunately, never completed. I imagine that Solothurn had a rather crushing workload as a student, but it's hard to say.
Nevertheless, I would like to take up the mantle of 'Project Gumpy,' but this time I would finish it, would have Gumpy thread his greasy fingers around Deidranna's neck while quoting Pulp Fiction, would have Flo orgasm in the midst of the rocket's red glare and vainglorious many-teared war, would have noted man-thing Ira grunt and belch her approval at the hanging of an enemy by his fingernails, would have Biff squeal in delight as he watches his paycheque climb from $150/day to the princely sum of $180. In short, I want to take some losers, whip them into shape, and have them march into Meduna, all under the eyes of my custom IMP merc.
But who will marshal them? Who will attach their collars and check them for fleas? Who will operate the can opener, by means of which nutritious food paste is to be provided inexpensively to them? Who will hose the blood and guts off of them? Who will provide the firm hand to jerk them off at night, lest their sexual instincts prove too much to control?
None other than Randian super(wo)man Dagny 'Mo Money' Taggart, of course, protagonist of noted paperweight Atlas Shrugged.
Capitalistic fervour never looked so good
Having destroyed the looters somewhere in the myriad pages of the novel, having freed society from the taint of never-named socialism, and having been subdued by John Galt's presumably titanic and page-spanning penis, Dagny has undertaken an even more grueling challenge: to expel the terrible queen Deidranna from the island-nation of Arulco. Mind you, Dagny operates under the illusion that Deidranna is helping to promulgate a communist regime in Arulco. She is not disabused of this notion in the least by Enrico Chivaldori, financier for this bloody undertaking, without whose epic contribution of $35,000 whole dollars the player could never hire their operatives (apparently the yearly salary of a single juniour accountant is sufficient to bankroll a team of elite mercenaries who have, likely, spent more money on their weapon accessories alone). It is her goal, then, to destroy this regime, and to extend her railroad across the sea and onto the tiny nation, that democracy might make its way into the nation all the quicker, carried on the back of trains powered by magical static-electric motors, on rails made of fantastic steel forged in the mind of a tyrannical robot. Would that Rand were alive to see the newest adventure of her favourite Iron Lady (not Thatcher, though her socialist-shattering adventures are equally entertaining).
Enough dithering, though. Onward, friends! To promises of glory and worship of a giant dollar-sign made of gold!
Our options:
We will be playing on experienced, which is both fun and challenging without being headache-inducing. We will also be playing on Realistic, as I find sci-fi to be broken in the 1.13 release. Save anytime goes without saying. Gun selection will be normal, but I have set enemies to drop everything, so I'll be doing a lot of scavenging. Finally, I've set the Tons of Guns option, which, in 1.13, brings dozens of real-world weapons into the fray. If you missed using your Steyr TMP and fifty-dozen AK47/74 variants, fret no more, for they're all in there. Furthermore, MERC, the 'More Economical Recruiting Centre' will be set to be available from Day 1.
Our heroine:
Thanks to Harvard Business School's new program, graduates train in two extracurricular combat options, just in case the islands holding their offshore accounts come under the rule of petty autocrats
Unlike Polk, she WILL be taking part in combat, but I will hold her back as much as possible. Taggart's natural godliness could make things a bit too easy.
Our lame-duck heroes:
Biff Apscott, cowardly retard. A combination of terrible wisdom and strength mean that not only is he retarded, he doesn't even have 'tard-strength to justify all the water in his head. In fairness, his other bodily stats are decent. In love with Flo. Biff's teaching skill is laughable; better to use Ira and Flo.
Doug 'Gasket' Milton, useful retard. While he equals Biff in retardedness, he makes up for it by being an exceptional mechanic, which is very useful in this game. Unfortunately, he occasionally has "'tard fugues" while walking around, wherein he will declare that he has forgotten what he's doing, and stop dead in his tracks. Fortunately this doesn't occur in combat. Also a useful lockpicker.
Despite being a sniveling weakling, and as agile as a pregnant sow, Flo's high wisdom means that she will improve rapidly. Wisdom governs how well one learns from one's experiences, so she will separate from the pack quite quickly. However, Flo's wisdom has not prevented her from falling in love with Biff, and therefore the accuracy of this statistic must be questioned.
Gumpy is fucking awesome. His divine wisdom means that he will eventually be a tremendous soldier. Furthermore, he has decent strength, and the all-important explosives skill. Believe you me, Gumpy will be collapsing more than a few walls with some well-placed sticks of TNT.
Part 1: This is John Galt speaking: live from Omerta, IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT
Dagny reflects on the state of the transport industry in a made-up country
After a nauseating chopper ride, our heroes jump rather flashily onto the soil of Arulco, a nation captive to an evil tight-pantsed queen. Their first task: to secure the ruined village of Omerta and to make contact with Miguel, the local rebel leader. This will mainly involve sneaking up to within a foot of our enemies and praying for a headshot, so lackluster are the skills of our hapless mercenaries.
Dagny landed gracefully and began checking her weapon. No doubt several socialists were lurking in the bushes, limp-wristed academics arguing pedantically about the virtues of a planned central economy. Dagny hefted her weapon, an MP5KA4, and inspected the magazine. Thirty bullets, one in the chamber, 29 remaining, each as equally effective at downing unarmoured communists as the last. The clerk had assured her that the weapon's communist-killing credentials were unassailable, but refused to clarify what he meant without financial inducement. Naturally, Dagny had had to sleep with him, and it was to be the first of many such inexplicable and violent sexual encounters-cum-rapes.
Her teammates had finished descending, and stood milling around, kicking at the dust absently. Hardened soldiers these were not. Dagny knew that she would have to chain them by the necks and drive her heel into their backs to get the necessary performance out of them. Her hand was to be iron, her glove of steel. There would no mercy, only pain. Evenings would culminate in mass orgies, conducted under her watchful eye. The team that kills together was to fuck together; Dagny knew that a co-mingling of blood and sex would deepen their access to their primal instincts, make them feral and strong. That they were naturally weak was of little concern to her; all would bend before her unreakable resolve. But first, to battle. A coterie of effeminate Charlies had taken up residence in Omerta, and it was their task to deepen the natural red of their army vests with blood.
With astounding perceptiveness, Gasket picked an enemy out in the distance, and began grunting and hooting. Taking this to be a warning, Dagny ordered her would-be platoon to take cover.
Foolishly, the soldier rounded the corner to gun down the dissenting louts. What he ran into, however, was two .38 slugs: one in the head and another in the gut, fired by Biff and Gumpy, respectively.
Gumpy's .38 Special would later go on to star in two short movies, neither featuring actor-director Clint Eastwood
Flush with the excitement of massacring a man even more luckless than they, the two miscreants high-five and touch asses. However, a bullet from the east puts an abrupt end to their celebration, and they run between two fire-gutted houses for safety. Yet another shot rings out, so they head north. There, Biff spots another enemy, and somehow manages to land a shot from the astonishing distance of twenty yards. Good for Biff.
With an inhuman bellow of bloodlust, Apscott surged forward and pounded another .38 into the heart of his hated enemy. Astonished, Dagny mentally raised Biff up a notch on her 'would-have-sex-with' list.
Biff imagines a Family Circus-esque set of footprints, terminating in the cold-blooded slaughter of an illiterate local woman. 'Not me!' With apologies to Mr. Keane.
Fearing the advance of yet more soldiers, the team retreats inside a house. Gasket manages to blow away an armed and deranged-looking woman attempting to enter the house. Gumpy spots a soldier to the east, kneels, takes aim, and fires. He manages two shots on the offender, and brings him down handily. Dagny is pleased with his violence, his refusal to bend before the bullets of others. But he would bend to her. Possibly in bed.
Dagny drove her troops forward, cracking a verbal lash over their backs, a poor surrogate for the real one she would doubtlessly find among San Mona's many leather boutiques. Eventually they come across the last soldier, the last vestige of Deidranna's rule of Omerta. Fortunately for the team he was blind in one eye and missing a thumb, and they dispatch him with ease.
Her troops were exhilirated: they had liberated their first city! What booty there would be to collect! What citizens to rape! But Dagny would not let them crow, not with such meager achievement.
"You have performed your function. No more. Mr. Hillman, your efficiency is notable, and when the time comes you will be punished less harshly than the others."
She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off to a torched bungalow, searching for the bedroom.
"In the meantime, you will be an adequate bed-slave. Now take me you weak-chinned stud. Use me like a 36-cent whore."
Gumpy swallowed and unbuttoned. It was going to be a long campaign.
Next up: Project D means Drassen and an Ayn Rand reference
(I hope to post once a week. I am a grad student with a fairly heavy course load, but Saturdays should afford me ample opportunity to post).