NationStates Jolt Archive


The Great DodgeBall War (semi-open)

Frisbeeteria
30-09-2004, 00:21
[The following is a Simulcast Broadcast from the Sophistan DodgeBall Defense Network (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=359922) and
Murdock Metro Media (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=359039). Participation is by invitation only, but if you see a possible opening,
please telegram your intentions to one of the principals. Non-interactive IC observations are welcome.]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/frisbeeteria/dodge/dodgelogo.gif

"Welcome to beautiful Acceleron Park in balmy Texan Hotrodders. I'm your host, Kenny Blankenship,"

"And I'm Vic Romano,"

"And this ... is The Great DodgeBall War"

Vic: "For those of you unfamiliar with this combat contest, let me fill in some of the gory details. You might want to send the kids out of the room for this"

Kenny: "Vic, you've got to be kidding!"

Vic: "Actually Kenny, I am. They might die from boredom, not from fright.

It seems that The Federated States of Sophista rose in opposition to the UN ruling, The Law of the Sea, stating their intent to ignore several of the points in that passed resolution.

The Conglomerated Oligarchy of Frisbeeterian Corporate States rose in protest, and declared war on Sophista, but oh, what a war. Neither state being an avid military power, they chose to pit their militaries against each other in the arena of DodgeBall.

That's why we're here today, and that's why you're witnessing the first total war inside a major sports arena, Kenny."

Kenny: "That's the most bizarre thing I think I've ever heard, Vic."

Vic: "Indeed it is, Kenny."

Kenny: "Behind us you see the lovely Acceleron Arena, provided by our battlefield hosts-for-the-day, Texan Hotrodders. What you're looking at is a converted basketball court. It's marked at seventy feet long by 40 feet wide, with side lines, attack lines, end lines, and that famous bright red center hash strip."

Vic: "The teams can't cross that center line, isn't that right, Kenny?

Kenny: "No siree Bob, they can't. That's the biggest infraction they can make. They're allowed to reach across it to pick up a ball, but touch the other side of the line and neutral sharpshooters will take them right out."

Vic: "Sharpshooters? That's brutal. I love it!"

Kenny: "Right you are, Vic. That's what makes DodgeBall War the sport of warriors."

Vic: "Indeed!"

"Let's do a quick refresher on the rules, Kenny. I don't know if our viewing audience has ever seen DodgeBall played quite this way before."

Kenny: "You can't mention the rules until you understand the Five D's, Vic. That's Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive, and Dodge."

Vic: "You said Dodge twice, Kenny"

Kenny: "Right you are, Vic. That's why they call it DodgeBall. We'll start with the teams. Each team, known as a Squad, has five men and five women for a total of ten soldiers. If a soldier is hit by a "fly ball", before it hits the floor and after being thrown by a soldier on the opposing Squad, that soldier is eliminated.

Vic: "And if a soldier catches a "fly ball", the thrower is out. Also, the other team returns an eliminated soldier to their Squad. The catcher can specify which Squad-mate returns."

Kenny: "There are rules about deflections and bounces and all that good stuff, Vic, but I'm not going to bore you with all that right now. That's what the line judges are for, and boy, what a multi-lateral bunch of stiffs we've got for this match. Half a dozen nations sent observers, and they've been drafted into this war as judges and referees. Our Chief Ref is none other than Texan Hotrodders UN Delegate himself, Edward "Speed Demon" Jones."

Vic: "But that's not all, Kenny. Here's the big difference between dodgeball and DodgeBall War. At the end of each match, all eliminated players become Prisoners of War for the opposing side. IRCO representatives are actually already on site to make sure that all aspects of the Wolfish Convention on POW are accurately covered!"

Kenny: "You mean to tell me that these nations are following the full force of UN law? How silly is that?"

Vic: "Pretty damned silly if you ask me, Kenny, but I didn't write the rules. I just call the game like I see it. And speaking of seeing the game, here come the Squads now. DodgeBall War is underway!"
Frisbeeteria
30-09-2004, 00:31
A luxury skybox, perched high the floor of Acceleron Arena. Sitting at the front glass, surrounded by aides, Sophistan Prime Minister Aaron Hammonds watches the developing action on the floor. Television monitors are scattered throughout the suite, volume low or muted. A full bar attracts little attention. For that matter, neither does the event, judging by the quiet bustle of bureaucrats at work.

The rear door opens silently into the suite's inner antechamber as a Sophistan Lieutenant in full dress uniform admits a tall man with a VIP badge clipped incongruously to his well-tailored suit. The visitor walks over to a sunken conversation pit where a pair of leather love seats face a wide-screen television.
"Ambassador Hillaker." The taller man offered a handshake.

Hillaker rose to accept the clasp. "Ambassador Donovan, thanks for coming over. I'm glad Director Riegle could spare you. Can I get you a drink?"

"Daniel, we've worked together for how long, now? It's Marty. Win Riegel won't miss me, though I'd rather avoid the piranhas from the press while I'm here, if it's all the same to you. Let's make it a Scotch. Neat."

Drinks in hand, they returned to the sofas. Settling into the comfortable leather, Hillaker tapped the volume up to barely audible. "Your man Murdock is a nutcase, you know."

"I do know that, Dan," Donovan sipped the excellent scotch, "but he's a profitable nutcase. You should see the numbers on that new TNNN. He's got a real feel for putting the right man on the right job, and he stole this new kid Giscard Ricatta from the TNNN startup for this. The guy has an uncanny sense for what sells at the moment, and right now that's lowest-common-denominator."

"I'm not all that comfortable with these announcers. I'll grant you, this war is a joke, but do we really want it to be a laughingstock?"

"Dan, if we can't laugh at war, what the hell good is it? Look at what we're doing here - we're taking the piss out of all those idiotic wars that get fought, and not one of our people is going to die for it. Hell, this may be the first-ever profitable war in NS history. They may be laughing at us for doing this, but they're going to be laughing with us when they see this program. Hang on, crank it a bit - I want to see who we managed to get as judges."
"...south baseline judge. [ polite applause ]

Here from The Starfallen Lands of Neo England: Harriett Sherrard, north baseline judge. [ polite applause ]

And from The Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss: Menno van der Linde, east line judge. [ polite applause ]

Representing The Confederated City States of Mikitivity: Clint Barton, west line judge. [ polite applause, and a couple of wolf whistles ]

All the way from The Liberal Unitary Republic of Goobergunchia: Darren Woodrum, centerline judge. [ polite applause ]

And with a real home-court advantage, representing The Fuel-Injected Federation of Texan Hotrodders, Edward "Speed Demon" Jones, Chief Referee!" . [ wild cheering ]
The cheering was loud enough to penetrate the armoured glass of the private box. "Damn, missed a couple." Donovan waved meaningfully at Hillaker, who obligingly reduced the volume to a dull murmur. "Good of Knootoss to come through. I thought for sure they'd turn us down, what with all they've got going on. Van der Linde is some kind of big shot in their Interior Department, I think. And Lord Evif gave us Woodrum. Nice to have a sitting Judge as a sitting judge."

"Marty, it's a sideshow attraction." Hillaker twisted the remote in his hands. "Hammonds doesn't show it, but he's as concerned as I am. Sophista has a reputation for ... a certain quality, Ambassador. A level of quality I just don't see out there. And the neutral sharpshooters? What the hell is that?"

"Showmanship, Daniel, pure showmanship. Why do people attend sports events like this anyway? Because they want to see a little blood, a little pain. So that's what we give 'em - a chance to see a little bit of relatively safe carnage. Look at Eddie out there, preening like a peacock on a hot date. I think the whole reason he agreed to host was to sit in the big chair in front of the cameras. Dan, I'm telling you, Murdock knows his audience. If Ed Jones gets hooked on this crap, we don't have to worry about the rank and file buying into this as a legitimate alternative to combat."

Cheers once again filtered through the glass. "Looks like they're warming up for the opening match. Let's go join your Prime Minister and get ourselves off on a war footing, such as it is. Then maybe we can try to figure out where it is we're going from here."
Texan Hotrodders
30-09-2004, 15:14
The light of the full moon fell through the bulletproof window and glistened on the clear glass table. Edward watched it intently for a moment, almost hypnotized by the soft glowing image. “Snap out of it, Jones,” said the voice of the Secretary of Sports Affairs for Texas. Edward’s head popped up suddenly, “What…oh, sorry, sir.” “You certainly are,” said the powerful HotRodian voice with a flat, wry tone to it. “This event could spur huge interest in the Texas sports leagues and boost the economies of hundreds of nations, and you, a man who can’t pay attention for two minutes, are refereeing it. Make damn sure you don’t disappoint me by messing things up with the Dodgeball War.” The man turned his chair and stared out of the bulletproof window. “Good night, Jones.” Edward knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he left quietly, determined to succeed in this task that he knew his own big mouth had gotten him into.

Many hours later in Acceleron Park…

Edward glanced at his watch. “Damn, it’s almost time to start,” he thought. He walked over to the other judges where they were chatting surprisingly amicably. He tapped them each and the shoulder and then said, “Let’s go.” They followed him to the judge’s conference area and he laid it out for them. “You seem like good people, and I doubt there’ll be any problems, but just in case, I have a couple things I would like to point out. First of all, don’t play favorites with these soldiers. They won’t like it; either because they’ll feel like they didn’t really win or they’ll feel cheated because they think they didn’t really lose. Secondly, if you bungle things and I have to make a call on something that I didn’t see, I’m gonna kick your ass out of this building so hard it’ll knock your momma into next week. Are we clear?” After some less than enthusiastic ‘yes, sir’s and a few rolled eyes he led them away from the conference area and headed towards the viewing area where he would watch the melee that was about to begin from his new chair. “I could get used to this,” he thought as he watched the judges take their places
Frisbeeteria
30-09-2004, 15:27
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/frisbeeteria/dodge/dodgelogo_tiny.gif

Kenny: "... and here come the Challengers, Vic. The Frisbeeterian Squad look pretty sharp in their orange warm-ups. Snappy tailoring means snappy ball-handling, wouldn't you say?"

Vic: "Indeed, Kenny. They're being led by COF Squad Leader Lieutenant Carl Winchester, with Master Sergeant Holly Mullin as his second-in-command. That's Carl directing the training tossers, and Holly is leading the Dip and Dive exercises"

Kenny: "That Sgt. Holly surely looks like one agile minx, Vic! I hope she'll be giving private interviews afterward the match."

Vic: "Get your mind out of the gutter, Kenny. She's a professional, just like this entire squad. And speaking of professionals, here come the Sophistans. As the challenged party, they get side selection in the first of this best-of-five matchup. Leading the blue FSS Squad is Lt. Anna Furtado, with her backup, Staff Sgt. Norman Golden."

Kenny: "He's the one they call Golden Arm, isn't he?"

Vic: "That's right, Kenny. Sgt. Norman is the heaviest power-hitter on the Squad, based on pre-match exhibition footage we've seen. I've seen him take the paint of a block wall with one of his patented overhand thrusts. The COF Squad is going to have to make him an early target, or they're going to be in some serious trouble."

"Say, Kenny, I'm looking at the COF squad, and some of them have on some very unusual outfits under those warmups.

Kenny: "Right you are, Vic. That's the latest in urban camouflage, according to an interview I got earlier with their Logistics and Supply Chief, Major Amy Faircloth. Let's go to the videotape."
Kenny: "Major Faircloth, I understand you're trying something new with Squad uniforms.

Major Faircloth: "That's right, Kenny. We're running a beta test on some new photo-chromatic fabric that we've had in development over at MilSpec Defense Industries R&D Labs. Here's what it looks like when we start ... "

she holds up a bolt of grayish, shimmering fabric,

"... and here's the finished product."

She now holds a long-sleeved jersey with what appears to be a photograph of a crowd watching from the bleachers.

"I just go out front as the crowd takes their seats and take a few digital shots, then we run it through the fabric processor. Voila! Instant, highly accurate camo, set to the exact lighting and ambiance of this arena."

Kenny: "Wow! That's going to be mighty painful for the Sophistans, isn't it?"

Major Faircloth: "That's the plan, Kenny. All's fair in love and war, as they say, and we'll take any advantage we can get. Now you're not going to air this before the match, are you?"

Kenny: "Of course not, Major. That would hardly be fair, now would it?"
Vic: "Kenny, the Squads are deployed on their respective sides, and Chief Judge Jones has the green flag held high overhead. Each Squad has their two maroon dodgeballs poised at the ready, and all eyes are on the flag ... and THERE IT GOES!"

Vic: "Great opening volley, Kenny! COF hid their two strikers behind other soldiers, and they got a great simultaneous shot at Sgt. Norman. Golden Arm is out, 4 seconds into the first match! Great strategy on the part of COF."

Kenny: "FSS have their revenge, though. A bad dive and a botched catch have taken two more of the COF soldiers, and it's ... WoHo, a DOUBLE CATCH by COF. Ten-seven, Frisbeeteria; and Haber and Wendt are back on the battlefloor."

Vic: "Great teamwork here on both sides, Kenny. Here comes a four-by volley from COF, and they've double-concentrated on Spaulding and Kearney. Two more FSS soldiers are eliminated, but now Sophista has all the balls. Ten-five, COF, make that nine-five - Haber's out again, and we're in a flurry."

Kenny: "Vic, this flurry is going so fast we're going to have to catch it on replay, but it looks like we've lost two more from each Squad ... wait, there's a yellow flag from the Knootoss judge ... they're ruling Coughlin was out-of-bounds, so that catch doesn't count. Eight-three COF, and Frisbeeteria is on a power-play! Unless FSS pulls a miracle out of their rucksacks, this match is history!

Vic: "And here it comes, Kenny - Sgt. Mullin took a sacrifice deflection, and COF has all four balls once again. Looks like you won't be getting that interview after all, Kenny. They're feinting, they're moving, HERE IT IS! All four off like a shot, and no dodges succeed! Final score, seven-zip for Frisbeeteria, and Lt. Carl Winchester leads his Squad to victory in this first match of DodgeBall Wars!"

Kenny: "And what a great start this is for a war, Vic. The Frisbeeterian Marines are leading the losing Sophistan squad off to the POW camp backstage, and a matching set of Sophistan Special Forces have the three eliminated Frisbeeterians headed towards the Sophistan POW compound. So much for Sgt. Holly, at least until the prisoner exchange."

Vic: "Indeed. While we wait for the IRCO representatives to check up on the prisoners and the arena staff mop to up the battlefloor, we're going to take a short commercial break. Don't go away, there's lots more DodgeBall Wars coming up right after this!"
The camera pans across the arena floor where the Frisbeeterian Squad poses for their partisans and camp followers. As the fanboy snapshots begin to flash over the victorious Squad, we begin to see patches of shimmering gray appearing on the uniforms. It appears that bright point-source flashes are washing away the camouflage effect from the team uniforms. The camera continues to pan past an open-mouthed Amy Faircloth as she drops to her knees and starts to cry, and we ...<fade to commercial>.
Frisbeeteria
30-09-2004, 16:44
Voiceover: "TelCoNS is an Approved Sponsor of DodgeBall Wars."
The TelCoNS Capsat® Mobile Telephone gives you true independent and global interconnection to any destination in the world. It handles both high quality telephone calls, fax prints, data transfer, or e-mail messages. Secure encryption and anonymous billing services make this the ultimate choice for the concerned traveler.

Designed in a rugged all-magnesium case, the TelCoNS Mini-M will fulfil all your portable and fixed needs for a mobile telephone, extending your mobility from "GSM" coverage to true icosahedral global coverage via G2S digital satellites.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/frisbeeteria/fris/telcons.jpg

The telephone occupies less than half of your normal briefcase, has low weight and low power consumption. It is your very best choice for any mobile requirement, working at construction sites, within rescue activities, for combat couriers, or simply for the frequent international traveler.

You can find the full line of Capsat® mobile products at all Regional ShopPlex centers and in many international locations, or visit us online at www.capsat.telcons.fris/offers/tv. Your anonymity is always preserved at TeleCommunications Networking Services of Frisbeeteria. [ Encryption module sold separately. Your prices may vary. Offer not valid in certain totalitarian nations. ]
Frisbeeteria
30-09-2004, 18:04
Hammonds glanced over at Donovan. "It would appear that your side got the better of us, sir." The Sophistan PM appeared to have an excellent poker face as a permanent feature.

"It's just the first match of five, Mr. Prime Minister," Donovan smiled. "Now that your Captains have seen our little surprise, I suspect it will be a bit more even from now on."

"You may be correct, sir. You may well be. In any event, please convey my congratulations to Director Riegle for a match well played." Hammonds turned as an aide handed him a clipboard.

Poker face or no, Martin James Donovan recognized a dismissal when he heard one. With a slight head tilt, he motioned Hillaker towards the door. "Dan, Frisbeeteria isn't blind to what's happening in the world either. This war could turn out to be an excellent excuse to address those concerns, but you and I are going to need to stay in touch to prevent any misunderstandings. I'm heading back to the COF skybox now. Why don't you drop by later in the match, and we'll get some skull sessions rolling."

"I'll see how things develop, Marty." Hillaker walked him to the exit. "Thanks for coming over. The Prime Minister appreciates it, and so do I."

Donovan walked down the quiet Skybox-level hallway towards Frisbeeterian territory. A thought struck him, and he pulled a tiny cell phone and dialed a number.

"Stan? Donovan. Listen, Stan, you still have a few of those promotional Capsat phones around, right? … yeah, I need a favor. I want you to comp a couple of the encrypted models to the Sophistan contingent. … You can? Excellent. Courier them over to the FSS skybox ASAP, wouldja? And give them an open-ended drawing account … oh, screw you too, buddy." Donovan grinned as he shifted the phone to his other hand. "You think I give a shit about your bottom line on a couple of penny-ante secure phone lines? … Oh for Chrissakes, Stan, just bill it to my UN budget. I could probably disguise a Battleship purchase in my per diems."

"What's the mood in the box, Stan? Anything I need to know about? … yeah, I'll be there in a few. Just a couple of stops to make before the second match." Donovan slipped the phone in a jacket pocket and continued down the wood-paneled hallway.
Sophista
01-10-2004, 05:43
The look on the Prime Minister's face was anything but positive, and Dan found himself suddenly wishing he was somewhere else. From the outset of the non-compliance conflict, Aaron had been cautious about giving Dan the authority to manage the Dodgeball War. The military establishment had been furious that the war was being played out by diplomats, and several commando units were using Hillaker as a perjorative slur now that their best troopers were playing games. Aaron realized this, and had expended gross amounts of political capital to keep the entire thing from falling apart. There was a strong movement in his cabinet to use the dodgeball distraction to launch a first strike against key elements of the Frisbeeterian military complex. Needless to say, that put enormous amounts of pressure on Dan to ensure that the Sophistan team was doing well in this conflict. Tonight's match had been a rout, and thus, tensions were rising.

"Dan . . ah, Christ, I don't even know what to say."

There was a long uncomfortable silence. Thousands of people had watched the Sophistan team get spanked by [nearly] invisible opponents, and that was only the live audience.

"How were we supposed to know, sir? All of our intelligence pointed in the completely opposited direc- . . . "

"Shut up, Dan. Just . . shut up. I'm risking an election so you can have this war, and we're already getting destroyed. You have no idea how embarassing it was for me to sit in front of parliament today. And it's not just the opposition parties. Our own guys are throwing the jokes around."

"Sir, it's only the first match. And now that we know what we're up against, it's only a matter of time before our R&D boys can work up a solution. We've got that edge on the Frisbeeterians. There's no profit in winning a dodgeball war."

"A joke isn't going to save you now, Dan. I'm giving you two matches to turn this around. If we're not winning by number three, I'm turning this over to the War Ministry."

His comment made the diplomat shudder. The dodgeball conflict was a mangeable one, sparing both nations from loss of life or infrastructure. If the military establishment had their way, the bombers would be leaving within a matter of minutes to begin their incendiary barrage.

"That won't be necessary, sir. I've asked that all reconiassance satellites not assigned to critical national-security tasks be realigned over Frisbeeteria proper and their surrogate facility at the dodgeball arena. Our intelligence experts won't sleep until they've found every weakness to exploit."

"I hope you're right, for your sake. If this conflict turns sour, you can bet the new Prime Minister won't be keeping you around."

"Yes, sir."

Daniel stepped away then, understanding the conversation to be over. Never turning his back from the Prime Minister, he exited the room, nodding to the elite guard outside. Once he was out of hearing range, he reached for the phone at his side.

"Mark. I need you to find a way to call every Sophistan citizen who's attending the games. I have a plan."
Texan Hotrodders
01-10-2004, 08:38
Mark Jones was rather enjoying the dodgeball matches. All of the things he held dear were here in Acceleron Park. The world-class vendors were constantly producing scrumptious and incredibly unhealthy commestibles for the consumption of fans like himself. They also had great beverages lined up out there, including the Imperial Brandy from Clearwater and tequila from HotRodia, two of his favorites. The dodgeball matches were edge-of-your-seat entertainment that you didn't feel guilty about watching because it wasn't all gory like some of the other war games. All in all, Mark thought he had found his heaven on earth.

After the first round he had found himself sitting next to a Sophistan chap who introduced himself as John Hillaker. Mark immediately asked, "Are you any relation to that high muckety-muck Daniel Hillaker?"

"No," said John rather sharply.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I bet you get that question alot, huh?"

"Far too often," John replied with a wry smile.

"So what brings you to the games?" asked Mark.

"My wife is on the Sophistan team," John said flatly, and Mark promptly spewed his brandy all over the seat directly in front of him.

"What? You mean that...very attractive one down there?"

"Correct," John responded with a faint twinkle in his eyes. "Might I ask why you are here?"

"Oh, my brother is the head referee down there. He got me some tickets because he knew I was a big sports fan."

"Now that you mention it there is a fair bit of resemblance." John paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I just hope your brother can manage to stay out of trouble with both sides of this conflict. I would hate to see him get caught up in the middle of a multi-national melee."

"I hope so too," said Mark, and began chewing at his lip pensively. After a moment, he got up and began looking for a phone.
HotRodia
01-10-2004, 09:06
Sam I Am looked into the hallway and noticed one Mr. MJ Donovan striding down the corridor. He hesitated for a split-second then strode into the hallway, catching up to Donovan quickly.

"Howdy, Mr. Donovan," he drawled in his thick HotRodian accent. "I would like to chat with you for just a moment about something involving the sponsors of this...event we're having here. I need your expert opinion on something."

"Alright, I suppose a quick chat couldn't hurt. What's your question?"

"It involves a bit of business some corporate interests in my country would like to do. See, The HotRodia Sports Network is already in the process of buying footage of the dodgeball war from Murdock Metro Media, along with the foreign advertisements that come with it. They would like to air some advertisements of their own on the Frisbeeterian networks, but aren't sure the companies that they're doing business with would go for it, and they would like the opinion of an experienced Frisbeeterian such as yourself on the question of whether asking for air time for advertising would be appropriate, given the circumstances. The corporate people feel that such a move would start to facilitate trade between our two nations and make for a very profitable venture for all parties involved, and I have to admit I agree with them. What do you say, Mr. Donovan?"
Frisbeeteria
01-10-2004, 15:14
"If any Frisbeeterian ever turns down a chance to discuss a profitable venture, it'll be the first time, Mr . . ."

"Sam. Sam I Am."

Donovan gestured down the corridor. "Walk with me, Sam. I know just the folks you need to talk to. MMM has marketing offices set up just around the corner, and our Sandra Rafferty would be delighted to meet you."

"Sam, never bet against fortuitous accidents. I started as an ad man myself, so you hit just the right guy at just the right time. I don't think there's any question of appropriateness, it's just a matter of targeting the correct demographic with the right message. The marketing department has specialists in this sort of thing, and they'll get you set up as quick as they can . . . and we're here."

A placard with the DodgeBall Wars, MMM and SDDN logos had been set up just outside a suite of utility / conference rooms on the outer rim of the Skybox level. Donovan leaned through the open door and rapped on the frame. An attractive brunette in a smart business outfit looked up from her monitor and smiled.

"Sandy, got someone for you to meet. This is Sam I Am, and he's got some questions about rebroadcasts and advertising, and I'd like you to bring in a general trade liaison once you get things rolling."

Rafferty came around the desk, hand extended to Sam. Her suit was very well tailored indeed. "I'd be delighted to help, Sam. Come have a seat and we'll get things started." Sandy Rafferty almost never lost a sale, at least not to a male of the species.

"Sam, I leave you in Sandy's capable hands. Nice meeting you." Donovan turned and walked across the hallway towards the COFCS skybox. He muttered under his breath, "Bet that fella never even noticed I left. By damn, I still love to watch Frisbeeterian marketing at its best."
Frisbeeteria
01-10-2004, 17:38
On entering the Frisbeeterian suite, Donovan was instantly struck by the vast differences between the Sophistan skybox and the Conglomerated Oligarchy space. The COF box was bustling with more people and more semi-ordered chaos than anything he'd seem on the other side of the arena, and right now he needed that little blast of home.

He spotted the Frisbeeterian CEO, and began threading his way across the room. Maneuvering through the staff tables covered with laptops, cell phones and half-finished take-out, he caught up to G. Winston Riegle at another of the ubiquitous leather sofa nooks. The muted television was showing more of the between-match interviews and commercials, and nobody appeared to be paying much attention to it.
"Win."

"Marty, good to see you. How are things on the other side?" Riegle gestured out the skybox window. Across the arena, the Sophistan flag could be seen flying above smoked glass windows.

"A bit chilly, actually," Donovan sighed. "It was somewhat embarrassing to be sitting with the opponents during that rout of a first match, to be honest. Dan Hillaker is a good man, but I don't know how much sway he's going to hold over the Prime Minister. Hammond's a dynamo, Win. There's fire under that calm surface."

"Fire to the fuel, Marty? I'm hearing rumors from the negotiating team that the Sophistans are taking this a whole lot more seriously than we are. Frankly, that worries me, particularly with what's going on in the Directorate."

"I know they're a fractious bunch, Win. Thirty-two separate corporate fiefdoms aren't ever going to be on the same page simultaneously; we both know that. Hell, I barely kept them contained before I retired as CEO and passed the damn job to you, and that was dealing with strictly domestic stuff."

"Which is exactly my point, Marty. This damned fake war is our biggest international exposure yet, and the Directors are loving it. Murdock's practically pissing his pants over all the exposure he's been getting lately, and he's not the only one. Marketing already has a couple dozen nationals re-broadcasting the first match, and they're signing up more every minute."

Donovan chuckled. "I dropped one off to Sandy Rafferty right before I walked in. You're right - I didn't see an empty seat over there. So what's the problem?"

"That."
Riegle pointed to the muted screen, where buxom MMM personality Carbine Elecktrik was interviewing one of the IRCO officials at the POW compound. Half a dozen Frisbeeterian Marines stood at attention behind them, uniforms sparkling, weapons polished, looking fully alert and ready to kill.
"You see those Marines? They're Murdock's. Contract actors, the lot of them. They all took a couple weeks training at my outfit's training ground, but I don't know if they can be trusted to know which end of the rifle to point at the 'enemy'. Don't you see, Marty? If the Sophistans think this is real, we're totally screwed, at least here."

"Jesus, Win! You didn't even bring along MilSpec troops? For Chrissake, you guys own something like 27% of our economy, last I checked."

"Military Specialist Defense Industries owns a 26 share, Marty. Which is why I'm sitting in the Director's chair on the board, as you well know. But 90% of it is for export, and right now exported weapons aren't doing shit for us. You think you can convince Louise that ConAg needs missile defense in their fields and hydroponics labs? You think Murdock installed anti-ballistic launchers in his MegaPlex?"

"Sure, some of the others have taken basic precautions, but we're not a military power, and never will be. Even if we could agree on procedure, war is inherently resource-inefficient. Interlocking directorships aside, we don't individually own enough stock to keep from losing our jobs, and the next Directorate would take us out of unprofitable ventures in a heartbeat. If Sophista takes this to the next level, it's a lose-lose proposition."

"Son of a bitch, Win. I didn't see that coming, and I should have. Alright, I know where this needs to go. Now I just need to steer it there. Somehow."
Frisbeeteria
01-10-2004, 19:06
Voiceover: "Lilliputian Legends is an Approved Sponsor of DodgeBall Wars"
DodgeBall WarClix™ are HERE!

DodgeBall WarClix™, the company’s first war-themed entry into the collectable miniatures game (CMG) market, have hit store shelves. It features real Dodgeball Soldiers sculpted as two-inch-high 3-D game pieces. DodgeBall WarClix™ gameplayers act as Company Commanders, collecting and trading the miniature combatants to face each other on a Battlefloor™ playmat.

DodgeBall WarClix™ simulates real combat situations by using specially-designed dice together with actual statistics that are contained in each soldier-specific figurine. DodgeBall WarClix™ are available at leading retailers nationwide right now. The game will be sold in Starter Sets and Booster Packs. The suggested retail price will be $19.99. Booster Packs allow collectors to add blooded veterans to their teams. Two-figure Boosters will retail for $4.99, three-figure Boosters at $6.99.

YOU can be a NATIONAL HERO! http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/frisbeeteria/fris/dodgeclix.jpg

Start your DodgeBall WarClix™ collection TODAY!
[ Action Arena Battlefloor™ sold separately. Figures ship unpainted and not as shown. Not recommended for children under the age of six. ]
Frisbeeteria
01-10-2004, 20:55
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v488/frisbeeteria/dodge/dodgelogo_tiny.gif

Kenny: "We're back to the action, Vic, as both sides bring up their second Squads."

Vic: "Indeed, Kenny. FSS is fielding their Second Platoon, First Squad, the 'Reckless Rangers', under the command of Lt. Archie Helbert. COF forces for this engagement are their Third Platoon, Second Squad, the 'Piledrivers', Lt. Pete Pleva commanding."

Kenny: "That's a great call on the part of the Sophistan Company Commander, Vic. Major Colin Cavero is putting five of their top ten Dippers up against the COF powerhouse team. It's a toss-up as to whether agility can outrun power, but my money's on FSS in this matchup. Great force allocation, in my opinion."

Vic: "Good thing you're not a betting man, Kenny. Those invisible uniforms could be the counter that gives COF the edge. We'll just wait and see how this one shapes up."

Kenny: "The warm-ups are done, and the Squads are making their way to the Battlefloor, Vic. Wait a minute . . . all over the arena, flash units are going off like crazy. Am I missing something? The match hasn't even started yet!"

Vic: "Indeed you are missing something, Kenny. Look at the COF Squad! Those fancy invisible uniforms are turning dull, shimmery gray. I think I may just have to change my bets after all."

Kenny: "Too late, Vic. The betting windows closed down two minutes before the bell. Look at these crowd shots in slow-mo ? almost all of those flashes are coming from fans in blue jerseys. Somebody in FSS just made a partisan powerplay that blew the socks off that Frisbeeterian advantage!"

Vic: "I ought to say something mean about the Blues versus the Grays, Kenny, but nothing comes to mind."

Kenny: "Right you are, Vic. Better to keep this a civil war."

Vic: "In any case, it's too late to change force allocations, Kenny. Those COF warriors are committed to this battle . . . and there's the green flag. Match two is underway!"

Kenny: "Major Cavero must have spent the break drilling this FSS Squad, Vic, because these guys are not making any mistakes. Look at that backwall rebound by Heyden ? a pike dive into a forward scoop, and right back into the teeth of Corporal Bartenson. FSS ten-nine, and the carnage is just beginning."

. . . Eleven minutes into the match, and it's obvious both sides have learned a great deal since the first match. The lead has shifted multiple times, but adept catches have replenished both Squads. Blue and Gray both appear somewhat worn down, with the score standing at seven-five, Sophista holding the advantage . . .
Vic: "FSS is in stomp formation, holding all four balls. Pleva has his unit shifting all over the Battlefloor, but it's obvious Helbert has a plan . . . and there's the tip! Helbert's first shot slams a crotch twinkie on Pleva, and he's doubled over in pain . . . then a head-shot, and a back-breaker from Coffey, ALL FOUR shots hit Pleva as he writhes out of control! That Lieutenant's been well and truly fragged!"

Kenny: "Vic, Judge Jones has the Black Flag raised, and he's calling a COF injury timeout!"

Vic: "Kenny, he can't do that unless all 4 balls are in hand and the line judge passes on the request. That's a major Bad Call, Kenny. Let's see a replay on that."

Kenny: "Right you are, Vic. As you can clearly see in the replay, nobody on the COF squad called for the timeout, and North Baseline Judge Sherrard still has all her flags in her bucket."

Vic: "Back to the live action, Kenny, it doesn't look like the COF squad are letting this error go to waste. Combat medics from the Frisbeeterian aid station have rushed onto the floor, and they're applying ice to Pleva's . . . owww, it hurts to even watch that, Kenny . . . but here come the IRCO stretcher bearers. Under the Rules of Engagement, Pleva's an injured POW even if COF takes the match."

Kenny: "COF Bird Colonel Karl Gaulke is on the sidelines, screaming at Judge Jones, but it doesn't look like he's going to back down. The single COF timeout has been removed from the scoreboard, and the score is seven-four, FSS. Now Sherrard and Barton have joined the fracas over at the Judge's platform. Let's see if we can get a mike on that action."
Sherrard: "Chief, two out of four were out of bounds South, and Sophista only had one of the others. The fourth ball is still on the COF side."

Jones: "I don't care, Harriet. I'm overruling you. Two balls to each team. Fair is fair."

Barton: "You mean fair is what you decide is fair, Edward!"

Jones: "Take your position, Barton. I don't give a damn if you served on the IOC, you're a line judge here in my arena. Get ready to commence combat!"
Vic: "Whoooah, I didn't realize Judge Jones was such a badass here, Kenny."

Kenny: "'Speed Demon' earned his racing stripes the old-fashioned way, Vic. And he's right. As Chief Judge, his ruling stands. Two balls to each side, the black flag goes in the bucket, and combat has resumed!"

Vic: "And immediately we've got an FSS catch, and a COF kill, Kenny. Eight-three Sophista."

Kenny: "Sophista's not losing any time taking advantage of this megapowerplay, Vic! There's another great catch by Coffey, followed immediately by a tuck-and-roll into a Kill on Lofgren, just as Tomko comes back onto the Battlefloor. Nine-two, FSS!"

Vic: "The Reckless Rangers are pummeling the backdrop with throw after throw, and the two remaining Piledrivers don't even have time to chase their own rebounds. There goes Barks, and now it's just Private Callie Lieber against practically all of the Rangers."

Kenny: "She's putting on a virtuoso Dive and Dip display, Vic, but it can't last . . . and it didn't. Helbert himself makes the final Kill, and the Federated States of Sophista take the match and tie the Battle!"

Vic: "And we'll be back for our post-match debrief, along with a host of special features, right after this break. Don't go away!"
HotRodia
03-10-2004, 05:28
"If any Frisbeeterian ever turns down a chance to discuss a profitable venture, it'll be the first time, Mr . . ."

"Sam. Sam I Am."

Donovan gestured down the corridor. "Walk with me, Sam. I know just the folks you need to talk to. MMM has marketing offices set up just around the corner, and our Sandra Rafferty would be delighted to meet you."

"Sam, never bet against fortuitous accidents. I started as an ad man myself, so you hit just the right guy at just the right time. I don't think there's any question of appropriateness, it's just a matter of targeting the correct demographic with the right message. The marketing department has specialists in this sort of thing, and they'll get you set up as quick as they can . . . and we're here."

A placard with the DodgeBall Wars, MMM and SDDN logos had been set up just outside a suite of utility / conference rooms on the outer rim of the Skybox level. Donovan leaned through the open door and rapped on the frame. An attractive brunette in a smart business outfit looked up from her monitor and smiled.

"Sandy, got someone for you to meet. This is Sam I Am, and he's got some questions about rebroadcasts and advertising, and I'd like you to bring in a general trade liaison once you get things rolling."

Rafferty came around the desk, hand extended to Sam. Her suit was very well tailored indeed. "I'd be delighted to help, Sam. Come have a seat and we'll get things started." Sandy Rafferty almost never lost a sale, at least not to a male of the species.

"Sam, I leave you in Sandy's capable hands. Nice meeting you." Donovan turned and walked across the hallway towards the COFCS skybox. He muttered under his breath, "Bet that fella never even noticed I left. By damn, I still love to watch Frisbeeterian marketing at its best."

OOC: Thoughts are in italics.

Sam smiled softly at Sandy as she sat down across from him at a small but well-made desk. He watched her movements carefully, noting that she made subtle unnecessary accentuations of her body. It didn't seem that she was doing it especially for him though, it was almost as if it were a habit she had formed. Too bad. I like a...personal touch. He grinned inwardly. She was a charmer as part of her job, that much was clear. Maybe I'll let myself be charmed. It could be fun. As she shot him the most winning smile he had ever seen from across the desk, he noticed her excellent facial bone structure. Focus, dammit. This is important. He relaxed his entire musculature and allowed himself to sink easily into the well-made chair. Charmers almost never expect that they can be charmed, which gave him a possible opening. He called to mind years of training as a Southern gentleman and all of his experience with what women really find attractive, gearing himself up for a challenging psychological skirmish. This is going to be fun.

Two hours later...

"Well, Sam, now that I've got the thrust of your idea, I'll make a few quick calls to some key people and we'll get the ball rolling."

"Thank you, Sandy. I really appreciate everything you're doing. If you ever need anything, just let me know..." He gazed steadily into her eyes with gravity and sincerity. "Here's my contact information." He passed her a small card as she moved by him on the way to the bank of phones in the main office.

"Thanks, Sam," she said warmly. She put a hand lightly on his forearm and then squeezed slightly and smiled a much more authentic smile than she had earlier. "I'll just be a few minutes, so make yourself at home, and maybe get some dinner for...us."

As she walked through the doorway and into the hall, Sam enjoyed her sinuous form for a moment. When she was gone, he lapsed into thought for a moment. She had been warming up to him at the end there, even though any gain she might acheive from him was out of her reach by that time because it was up to the corporate types to seal the deal now. This made him hopeful. He went in search of dinner and, finding a local phonebook, dialed a restaurant whose ad mentioned that reservations were required. Any restuarant would deliver if the price were right, and he knew he could afford the right price.
Texan Hotrodders
03-10-2004, 06:56
Sherrard: "Chief, two out of four were out of bounds South, and Sophista only had one of the others. The fourth ball is still on the COF side."

Jones: "I don't care, Harriet. I'm overruling you. Two balls to each team. Fair is fair."

Barton: "You mean fair is what you decide is fair, Edward!"

Jones: "Take your position, Barton. I don't give a damn if you served on the IOC, you're a line judge here in my arena. Get ready to commence combat!"




Barton: "That's it! I'm fed up with your arrogance! I'll do what I damn well please, Edward! So shut up and sit in your chair and look pretty while the rest of us do our jobs. It's all you're really good for."

Jones: "Fine. If you won't play by the rules like good little boy, you can leave. Consider yourself relieved of duty."

Barton: "Bah! It sure as hell is a relief, you blowhard!



Sherrard: "That's just great. Now who will we get to replace him?"

Jones: "Don't worry, Harriet, I prepared for an eventuality such as this. We'll be back in business in no time."
The BlackWolf Order
03-10-2004, 11:55
"Well, I must say, it is rather entertaining, despite being no way to run a proper war," Admiral Piotr Naismith said, reclining in the Lay-z-boy® he had chosen for his seat.

Seated in another recliner nearby, General Vance Kaerion finished a swig from his beer before shaking his head in disagreement. "On the contrary, Piotr. I'd much rather that wars were as simple as this. Alot less killing, and we could get away with having families we didn't have to worry about leaving behind in case we got fragged out in the mix."

"True..." the older Admiral replied, and then took a pull from his own drink.

Callies Ymirson, Colonel in the Kestrels and Lady-Commander of the Order entered the room, followed by her husband, Colonel Rudy Ymirson. In their arms were bowls of chips, dip, hot wings and, thankfully to the two officers already seated, more beer.

"Thanks for having us over, Callie. Nothing like catching a good round of DodgeBall."

"No problem, Vance. Glad you both could make it." She set the bowls in hand onto the coffee table, centered in her living room between the seats and the massive vid-screen. "Maybe you old war dogs could take a few hints from these guys," she continued as she took a seat on the couch between the recliners, grinning slightly.

"And more beer for us all, too. Although you've got to get up to get it," Rudy said, taking a seat next to his wife.

"Aww..." Vance groaned. "And I was so hoping you'd be fetching for us, Rud."

"Hell no, not in my own home. You can go get your alcohol yourself."

"Bah," Vance muttered as he rose to the table and began loading his plate with the snack foods laid out for them. "Got ranch for these wings?"

"Bowl to the left," Callies said, reaching forward to take a handful of the popcorn centered in the table. "How long have these two guys been talking, they're absolutely aweful!"

"The whole damn time since we turned the vid on. Worst part is, its live, so we cant even see if the On Demand features work, and fastforward to the good stuff." Piotr took a flask from his pocket, a swig, and then returned it to its home. And then washed it down with a swig from his beer.

"Damn, Piotr. Getting enough alcohol there?" Rudy asked, munching on a wing.

Piotr held up the beer for a moment. "Beer is what I drink when I'm thirsty. When I want alcohol, I drink Vodka."

"Damn crazy-ass Ruskie. Still can't believe they let you guys have a colony."

"We had to preserve our culture somehow. Besides, the Rodina did not have room for all her children anymore. Much like your own nations."

"Well, I can say the vodka you guys brew is stronger than this Old Earth stuff they've got here." Vance chimed in, around a mouthful of chips.

"Oh hush, kids. The game's gettin started," Callies admonished. The four leading officers of the Order immediately turned their attention to a war to decide the fate of two countries. A DodgeBall War.

(...Eheheeh. Couldn't resist. Good job there, guys, this is great stuff)
Mikitivity
03-10-2004, 18:44
Barton: "That's it! I'm fed up with your arrogance! I'll do what I damn well please, Edward! So shut up and sit in your chair and look pretty while the rest of us do our jobs. It's all you're really good for."

Jones: "Fine. If you won't play by the rules like good little boy, you can leave. Consider yourself relieved of duty."

Barton: "Bah! It sure as hell is a relief, you blowhard!



Sherrard: "That's just great. Now who will we get to replace him?"

Jones: "Don't worry, Harriet, I prepared for an eventuality such as this. We'll be back in business in no time."


Barton (now yelling): "Jones, I'll bet you were prepared alright! You've probably been waiting for an excuse like the poor beating Pleva just took to just let the game continue and deny him his right to aid!

Sherrard: "Clint, calm down. This isn't ..."

Barton (ignoring Sherrard): "I'd like to remind the rest of you judges, that this is a game. A sport! Its not as if these dodgeballs explode on impact!"
Sophista
04-10-2004, 01:28
"I hope, for both our sakes, that tonight's match wasn't a mistake."

Normally, one would expect the Prime Minister to be at least marginally happy after watching his "army" leaving the court after a stunning victory, but Aaron's face was bare of any pleasantries. No doubt, he'd been on secure lines all night with the rest of his top advisers and other ministry heads, doing his best to keep them from forcing a true land war.

"I assure you, sir, this was just the first of many wins. Our citizens have come through for us again, this time during a state of war. Now that we understand their strengths we can put the surveillance data from our satellites to beter use. Don't worry. We're only going up from here."

"Trust me, Dan. I'd like to be able to sit back and assume that everything is going to be fine; that you're going to handle this with your usual flair and cunning. There's a reason that I appointed you, after all. But you have to understand the kind of pressure I'm under. Before tonight's came, my polls were spiraling into the abyss. Most of our citizens see this as an superfluous war brought on by your arrogance in the United Nations. They feel like the world is picking on us for our hardline stance."

He turned to face the window in the presidential suite, eyes searching the horizon of the Hotrodian landscape as if some kind of escape could be found just over the furthest hill. No government party with polls this low had ever retained the majority during an election year. After holding the post for fifteen years, Aaron had become an icon among Sophistan culture, bringing about massive reforms to the government, and turning the country from a quiet island chain lost in the East Pacific to a space technology powerhouse and well-respected diplomatic partner. Why let that legacy end?

"For now, the Ministry of Defense has cooled off. As much as he'd love to show the world what our armed forces are made of, he understands that we don't have the manpower to launch a sustained offensive against an enemy like Frisbeeteria. Even if our air force rained down carpet bombs on every square mile of the country, and they'd still be capable of a counterattack."

Hillaker nodded silently, knowing that the PM wasn't done with his monologue. For all his talent and cunning, Aaron wasn't known for short speeches or succint narrative.

"But that attitude won't last forever. The wheels at the MoD are starting to turn, and it won't be long before they can launch a sustained offensive. I doubt you'd be happy seeing your friend Mr. Donovan reduced to ash by an incendiary campaign."

The personal attack stung more than the PM likely thought it would. Yes, MJ was his friend, but to imply that Daniel was willing to put his personal interests ahead of those of his country was a grave insult. Still, he remained stoic. He didn't need to let Aaron know that those comments were effective.

"If anyone understands the risks, sir, it's the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The nation of Sophista and her people have a reputation to keep, and we would never do anything to put that at risk."

"I certainly hope not, Dan."
Ecopoeia
05-10-2004, 18:32
Nayoko Dazai was trying to decide what was bugging her more: the enduring background odour of petrol or the waves of raw testosterone emitted by the hollering HotRodders around her. She was starting to think that volunteering for this assignment was a bad idea. Nice thinking, Nayo. See the world, experience a culture utterly unlike Ecopoeia's. Fool... A mountain of a man, exposed limbs greasy and sprouting from under-sized clothing, sat next to her and grinned through a mouthful of indeterminate 'meat' product. She smiled back, weakly and groaned inwardly.

'Observer'. The vagueness of the title should have warned her. Three months at the Department for Leisure was hardly going to merit her major diplomatic duties. Her lack of seniority probably said a great deal about how seriously Ecopoeia regarded this peculiar little 'conflict'. Hell, she'd only seen a handful dodgeball games and that was enough to teach her that, a) you have to be a loon to play, and, b) Ecopoeia were awful. No killer instinct. No wonder the world regards as a bunch of harmless treehugging hippies.

Nayo's reverie was disturbed by shouting from the court. She cursed her inattention, then realised what was happening. A brief exchange with a HotRodder earlier returned to her with haunting clarity. She'd been woozy after the flight and hadn't been concentrating. Something about "stepping in if there was any trouble"...

Judge Jones was looking in her direction and beckoning to her.

Oh, shit...
Texan Hotrodders
05-10-2004, 18:47
Nayoko Dazai was trying to decide what was bugging her more: the enduring background odour of petrol or the waves of raw testosterone emitted by the hollering HotRodders around her. She was starting to think that volunteering for this assignment was a bad idea. Nice thinking, Nayo. See the world, experience a culture utterly unlike Ecopoeia's. Fool... A mountain of a man, exposed limbs greasy and sprouting from under-sized clothing, sat next to her and grinned through a mouthful of indeterminate 'meat' product. She smiled back, weakly and groaned inwardly.

'Observer'. The vagueness of the title should have warned her. Three months at the Department for Leisure was hardly going to merit her major diplomatic duties. Her lack of seniority probably said a great deal about how seriously Ecopoeia regarded this peculiar little 'conflict'. Hell, she'd only seen a handful dodgeball games and that was enough to teach her that, a) you have to be a loon to play, and, b) Ecopoeia were awful. No killer instinct. No wonder the world regards as a bunch of harmless treehugging hippies.

Nayo's reverie was disturbed by shouting from the court. She cursed her inattention, then realised what was happening. A brief exchange with a HotRodder earlier returned to her with haunting clarity. She'd been woozy after the flight and hadn't been concentrating. Something about "stepping in if there was any trouble"...

Judge Jones was looking in her direction and beckoning to her.

Oh, shit...

Edward looked around a bit and spotted his ace-in-the-hole reserve judge sitting about forty feet away. He caught her eye and waved to her, indicating that she was to join him. As she strode somewhat reluctantly towards him, he noted to himself out of the corner of his eye that it would be nice to have her around. She was far more attractive than Harriet, if a bit shy. When she finally reached him, he introduced her to Harriet and the rest and then began to explain what had happened.

"The judge from Mikitivity, Clint Barton, was insubordinate and I relieved him of his duties as judge. This means you're in, if you still feel up to it?" She nodded slightly and he continued.

"This is your chance to shine in the international spotlight, Nayo. Make the best of it. Go with Harriet here and familiarize yourself with the rules again before we get started."

"Dammit, Jones," Harriet interjected, "Why me?"

"Because you're the one I trust to do it, Harriet. Let's get moving so the show can go on." He headed back to his chair and tried to relax, hoping that the rest of the war wouldn't be quite so eventful.
HotRodia
18-11-2004, 20:37
Voiceover: "Power. Speed. Beauty. These are the things you desire in your automobile.

HotRodia Motor Corporation would like to give you those things, and so much more, so we created an automobile like none other.

Watch your local dealerships for the unveiling of the new flagship grand touring car from the finest marque in all The World."

Moderator GT-S

http://img62.exs.cx/img62/8/610x224_V12_Vanquish_S_Handling.jpg