Yellowbelly
Chieftain
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2004
- Messages
- 63
Michael cursed. Yet again the RNG had barred him from what appeared to have been an easy win. It was so very frustrating; a stack of five swords reduced to a blank tile by a solitary spear. He saved the game and then turned to the Civ forums (fora?). Well, at least he wasn't the only one with problems with the RNG. Ha, ha, here was one reference to ... hmm, wait a minute, now, maybe that's a real thought. Pray to the god of RNG. Why not? OK, so there are a hundred reasons why not. But what harm could it do? A little shyly, Michael got down on his knees and, after a little thought, faced the computer. "O Great God RNG," he intoned - and then, inspiration! "O Great God RiNGo," he restarted, "vouchsafe me this game and spare me the horrors of disfavour." Looking around to make sure he had not been observed, he reseated himself at the computer and loaded his save.
Voila! After months of struggle, his first victory at Chieftain. Wow, there really seemed to be something to this! Soon, he was praying daily to "RiNGo" who guided him through Warlord and up to Regent. There, things seemed to stagnate in spiute of five daily prayer sessions (whether or not he was actually playing). What more could Michael do to placate RiNGo?
Sacrifice! The remnants of a box of KFC found at the back of the refrigerator took him to Monarch level. A pair of tawdry earrings filched from his sister's bedside table, together with a ten dollar bill saw him win his first Emperor game. But what next? RiNGos demands were ever more onerous and Michael was determined to earn a place in the HoF, or at least win a carefully logged OCC AW Sid game.
Michael thoughtfully eyed Tandy. Tandy was a terrier of some kind - a kind clesrly not recognised by the AKC. She was yappy and snappy and still not fully housetrained at a year old ...
Now for Demigod. Clearly, we'll have to upgrade the sacrifice a bit more, thought Michael. Well, the tradition says virgins, doesn't it?
Ms Garble came to visit Michael's mother. Ms Garble was as indeterminate as her title. A thin and sharp-featured woman, she preached constantly of the virtues of abstinence - from everything. Michael's mother was not at home, and surely no one would really miss Ms Garble ...
Scratched and bruised, Michael sat at his computer and clicked on Demigod. Some hours later he screamed in rage as a conscript warrior somehow managed to destroy three Modern Armor. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN? Michael leaned back in his chair and thought. Perhaps ... perhaps (the late) Ms Garble had not been a practitioner of all she had preached? And RiNGo was clearly furious at the (unwitting) attempt by Michael to fob him off with a non-virgin.
Dressed in a long, dark coat amd a hat pulled over his face, Michael stood across the street from the local Junior High School, trying anonymously to find his ticket to Demigod status. Alas, his anonymity was not long preserved as a long, dark coat and a hat pulled over the face is not a commonly seen apparition in June ... in Las Vegas, NV!
The trial was an episode of confusion and a time of consideraable stress for Michael - let alone for the public defender assigned to him. Michael tried as best he could to explain his desire to rise from demigod to full-fledged Deity, and the means he had had to adopt to achieve his lofty aims. The attorney shook his head sadly: the psychiatrist rambled on about delusions of grandeur, the Judge said some thing about indefinite detention and Michael's sister never did find her ear-rings.
Michael now spends his days in the most secure part of a most secure institution, sitting in front of a blank CRT, lips constantly writhing. Those who dare go near enough to hear him say that he is constantly issuing orders respecting the building of cities, the disposition of troops and theordering of government. He has , in his way, achieved Deity.
Voila! After months of struggle, his first victory at Chieftain. Wow, there really seemed to be something to this! Soon, he was praying daily to "RiNGo" who guided him through Warlord and up to Regent. There, things seemed to stagnate in spiute of five daily prayer sessions (whether or not he was actually playing). What more could Michael do to placate RiNGo?
Sacrifice! The remnants of a box of KFC found at the back of the refrigerator took him to Monarch level. A pair of tawdry earrings filched from his sister's bedside table, together with a ten dollar bill saw him win his first Emperor game. But what next? RiNGos demands were ever more onerous and Michael was determined to earn a place in the HoF, or at least win a carefully logged OCC AW Sid game.
Michael thoughtfully eyed Tandy. Tandy was a terrier of some kind - a kind clesrly not recognised by the AKC. She was yappy and snappy and still not fully housetrained at a year old ...
Now for Demigod. Clearly, we'll have to upgrade the sacrifice a bit more, thought Michael. Well, the tradition says virgins, doesn't it?
Ms Garble came to visit Michael's mother. Ms Garble was as indeterminate as her title. A thin and sharp-featured woman, she preached constantly of the virtues of abstinence - from everything. Michael's mother was not at home, and surely no one would really miss Ms Garble ...
Scratched and bruised, Michael sat at his computer and clicked on Demigod. Some hours later he screamed in rage as a conscript warrior somehow managed to destroy three Modern Armor. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN? Michael leaned back in his chair and thought. Perhaps ... perhaps (the late) Ms Garble had not been a practitioner of all she had preached? And RiNGo was clearly furious at the (unwitting) attempt by Michael to fob him off with a non-virgin.
Dressed in a long, dark coat amd a hat pulled over his face, Michael stood across the street from the local Junior High School, trying anonymously to find his ticket to Demigod status. Alas, his anonymity was not long preserved as a long, dark coat and a hat pulled over the face is not a commonly seen apparition in June ... in Las Vegas, NV!
The trial was an episode of confusion and a time of consideraable stress for Michael - let alone for the public defender assigned to him. Michael tried as best he could to explain his desire to rise from demigod to full-fledged Deity, and the means he had had to adopt to achieve his lofty aims. The attorney shook his head sadly: the psychiatrist rambled on about delusions of grandeur, the Judge said some thing about indefinite detention and Michael's sister never did find her ear-rings.
Michael now spends his days in the most secure part of a most secure institution, sitting in front of a blank CRT, lips constantly writhing. Those who dare go near enough to hear him say that he is constantly issuing orders respecting the building of cities, the disposition of troops and theordering of government. He has , in his way, achieved Deity.
