Armandian Cheese
29-12-2006, 13:33
There was once a small hive of insects, oh so very small
Though friendly and similar, they weren't united, not at all
Then came a threat from the West, an army oh so grand
These oil slicked Scarabs, for Allah they claimed insect land
They slaughtered our poor green little buggers
And robbed their precious lives, these muggers
Thus the insects did join and did confer
And a mighty solution they did infer
United as one, all together we must stand
And we shall repel them from our land
So thus they began their grand experiment,
And lo and behold, to the world's amazement
They succeeded and they prevailed
A new Revolution the world hailed
Thousands upon thousands joined as one
The Combine was born, the Combine had won
Stow away your Red Banners and Crosses,
Hide your False Rebels and Capitalist Bosses
True Revolution has begun,
The Black Flag has won!
__________________________________________________
The green glow that seemed to permeate so much of the Combine was, if it was even possible, even more prevalent here; green digital lines, green computer screens, even green little coffee mugs made purely for the purpose of fulfilling that irritating Combine conformist instinct.
Why couldn't we have been a gay Combine? At least that way we'd have some sense of interior decorating, groused the Energy Minister.
She sat in the midst of an entirely black room, lit by the emerald grow of a million installations. In front of her stood a large, makeshift tower, forged out of what appeared to be several chess boards floating above each other. Each of these boards was coated completely in black, and was silhouetted by those ubiquitous lines of emerald. Upon the boards themselves sat identical arrays of glowing, green little insects, vaguely resembling praying mantis' cast in crystal. The pieces were constantly shifting, forging unstable alliances, massing in large groups, and scattering into a million shards; their movement was a blur for the untrained eye. Around the column itself sat a clustered mass of Asiatic men and women clad in identical, Western style black suits and green ties: Armandian bureaucrats. These were no ordinary Armandian bureaucrats, however; they were members of the highest branch of Combine government, the National Symposium. The Symposium, which had a constantly shifting membership---with the odd exception of the Energy Minister---in order to maintain its democratic quality, was assembled before this annoyingly green contraption in order…
….to play a game.
Yes, a game; but this was no ordinary game, oh no!
'tis the game of revolutionaries and rebels, conformists and proletarians!
Fang.
Despite its high tech set up, the game was actually quite old, as the name suggests. Fang had come a long way from its humble village origins; digital displays had replaced wooden, altered chessboards, polycarbonate fibers had replaced strings, and holographic icons had replaced actual fangs. However, the rules and aim of the game remained much the same; these Armandians would engage in the same intellectual challenge their own ancestors had faced, thousands of years ago.
The rules were fairly convoluted, but a brief summary is all most outside observers want or need. The game can be summarized thus: every individual player begins with a set of a few pieces on the board, and is utterly alone, with all other players labeled as 'hostile'. The objective is to eliminate all 'hostile' units. However, it soon becomes evident that, no matter how brilliant your strategy is, you cannot win the game on your own.
This is where the fun begins. In order to win, individual players must form alliances. However, they can only ally once per turn, and their access to information about the structure of alliances is limited. Not only that, but alliances can also be broken at any time, leading to a game where alliances constantly shift, and a skilled player must learn to think several steps ahead in an almost insanely complicated scenario. The optimal strategy is predict your opponents movements in such a way as to form an alliance of perfectly positioned players---since an alliance cannot consist of more than 1/3 of the players---without actually knowing who is allied with whom. In this way, the game manages to teach the seemingly contradictory qualities of teamwork and cunning.
In other words, it is the essential Combine game, and one that Armandians play almost constantly, although many of those they play with don't realize they're taking part.
"Alright," barked the stern faced Minister, "today we play a new game. The game is international diplomacy."
"The players are Depkazia, the INU, NATO, the Holy League, the ashes of Elias, the Sphere, and of course, Beth Gellert."
"The boards are Afghanistan, the Suez, and Western Sahara."
"The rules are unknown, the results even more so, and only one thing is certain: in this game, there are the players…and there are the played. The Combine most certainly doesn't fall into the latter. So, without further delay," she smiled fiercely, as her thoughts turned to the vast array of diplomats outside her door.
"…let the games begin."
____________________________________
OOC: Aaaaannnnd I'm back, bitches. This is basically a sort of gathering for all the diplomatic issues that arose while I was gone. So if you have anything to discuss with the Combine, do it here.
Though friendly and similar, they weren't united, not at all
Then came a threat from the West, an army oh so grand
These oil slicked Scarabs, for Allah they claimed insect land
They slaughtered our poor green little buggers
And robbed their precious lives, these muggers
Thus the insects did join and did confer
And a mighty solution they did infer
United as one, all together we must stand
And we shall repel them from our land
So thus they began their grand experiment,
And lo and behold, to the world's amazement
They succeeded and they prevailed
A new Revolution the world hailed
Thousands upon thousands joined as one
The Combine was born, the Combine had won
Stow away your Red Banners and Crosses,
Hide your False Rebels and Capitalist Bosses
True Revolution has begun,
The Black Flag has won!
__________________________________________________
The green glow that seemed to permeate so much of the Combine was, if it was even possible, even more prevalent here; green digital lines, green computer screens, even green little coffee mugs made purely for the purpose of fulfilling that irritating Combine conformist instinct.
Why couldn't we have been a gay Combine? At least that way we'd have some sense of interior decorating, groused the Energy Minister.
She sat in the midst of an entirely black room, lit by the emerald grow of a million installations. In front of her stood a large, makeshift tower, forged out of what appeared to be several chess boards floating above each other. Each of these boards was coated completely in black, and was silhouetted by those ubiquitous lines of emerald. Upon the boards themselves sat identical arrays of glowing, green little insects, vaguely resembling praying mantis' cast in crystal. The pieces were constantly shifting, forging unstable alliances, massing in large groups, and scattering into a million shards; their movement was a blur for the untrained eye. Around the column itself sat a clustered mass of Asiatic men and women clad in identical, Western style black suits and green ties: Armandian bureaucrats. These were no ordinary Armandian bureaucrats, however; they were members of the highest branch of Combine government, the National Symposium. The Symposium, which had a constantly shifting membership---with the odd exception of the Energy Minister---in order to maintain its democratic quality, was assembled before this annoyingly green contraption in order…
….to play a game.
Yes, a game; but this was no ordinary game, oh no!
'tis the game of revolutionaries and rebels, conformists and proletarians!
Fang.
Despite its high tech set up, the game was actually quite old, as the name suggests. Fang had come a long way from its humble village origins; digital displays had replaced wooden, altered chessboards, polycarbonate fibers had replaced strings, and holographic icons had replaced actual fangs. However, the rules and aim of the game remained much the same; these Armandians would engage in the same intellectual challenge their own ancestors had faced, thousands of years ago.
The rules were fairly convoluted, but a brief summary is all most outside observers want or need. The game can be summarized thus: every individual player begins with a set of a few pieces on the board, and is utterly alone, with all other players labeled as 'hostile'. The objective is to eliminate all 'hostile' units. However, it soon becomes evident that, no matter how brilliant your strategy is, you cannot win the game on your own.
This is where the fun begins. In order to win, individual players must form alliances. However, they can only ally once per turn, and their access to information about the structure of alliances is limited. Not only that, but alliances can also be broken at any time, leading to a game where alliances constantly shift, and a skilled player must learn to think several steps ahead in an almost insanely complicated scenario. The optimal strategy is predict your opponents movements in such a way as to form an alliance of perfectly positioned players---since an alliance cannot consist of more than 1/3 of the players---without actually knowing who is allied with whom. In this way, the game manages to teach the seemingly contradictory qualities of teamwork and cunning.
In other words, it is the essential Combine game, and one that Armandians play almost constantly, although many of those they play with don't realize they're taking part.
"Alright," barked the stern faced Minister, "today we play a new game. The game is international diplomacy."
"The players are Depkazia, the INU, NATO, the Holy League, the ashes of Elias, the Sphere, and of course, Beth Gellert."
"The boards are Afghanistan, the Suez, and Western Sahara."
"The rules are unknown, the results even more so, and only one thing is certain: in this game, there are the players…and there are the played. The Combine most certainly doesn't fall into the latter. So, without further delay," she smiled fiercely, as her thoughts turned to the vast array of diplomats outside her door.
"…let the games begin."
____________________________________
OOC: Aaaaannnnd I'm back, bitches. This is basically a sort of gathering for all the diplomatic issues that arose while I was gone. So if you have anything to discuss with the Combine, do it here.