@Meg said in Forum Factions:
That One Time On That One Game aka Once Upon A Time
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(I chose to interpret this as meaning people who start telling stories about that one time something happened on a game a lot. Again, I don't question the factions. I just make them.)
I do tell stories a lot. Game related, life related, whatever related. I recount my experiences often.
So there I was with my shoulder pressed into the door, holding onto the handle with both hands, and my feet planted to prevent it from opening. My partner whose name I'll refrain from placing in an internet forum, was if memory serves 69 years old and I believe at that point a great-grandfather. Basically I knew that I was on my own, if it came down to a brawl or fight for life, and that I'd no doubt be facing down multiple opponents - at least two, probably armed, if I could maintain the doorway as a chokepoint. One if I was lucky. This was when I was in some of the best shape of my life, I had a few rudimentary weapons mostly things that I could use to bludgeon a mother fucker to death if necessary. I was confident in my ability to defend us, but not overconfident. I knew that while I may be able to hold off two, three, maybe even four attackers, that eventually fatigue and attrition would wear me down. Then it would be bye-bye to my booty v-card, I expect.
I could hear the riot on the other side unfolding. I could smell the apple blossoms in the air; it was the mace grenades being thrown around. Thankfully it wasn't making way into the small space that we were able to barricade ourselves just as things really got underway. I readily remember feeling a pressure against the side of my foot at one point. Like a gentle, but insistent poke-poke-my dude. Upon glancing down I noticed that someone had slid the business end of a screwdriver-shank under the door and was poking away at my boot in hopes of injuring me and presumably to get me off the door. Likely because it would have come open a number of times as a result of someone trying to boot it down, the hammers they were trying to use on the handles(to little effect, it would seem), and at one point I even believe they had acquired a set of keys because they had caught me off guard and the doors handle had started to turn just slightly. We held though.
I remember all of the conversations had with them while they were trying to get to my partner and I. At one point there was one at the door and he was informing me what he was going to do when the door came down. Unfortunately for him, I was able to recognize his voice immediately and later used that information to identify him and many others to investigators. This particular individual though, he stuck out because of the nature of his threats and the exact working that even the SP detective had questions about. "I'm going to beat you, kill you, and rape you". The SP's investigator asked at that point, "...in that order?", "Yes, sir", "What does that make him?", ".....a necrophiliac, sir". SP lost it at that point and had a good laugh. I digress.
I had maintained my calm for much of it all. Cool as a cucumber, as they say. I was focused. More so than even now. Now I have hypervigilance and it's nothing in comparison to just how alert and aware of the world around me I was at that time. I can remember the smells in the air (even the tastes in the air, really), the very faint burning sensation to my eyes(I'm not crying, it's the mace, mother fucker!), the smell of the cologne that I was wearing that day, the texture of the door handle in my grip for three hours, or even that the shoulder I used to put my weight into the door never actually hurt or even felt uncomfortable over the period of time until I moved it away from where it had rest for so long.
I was cool though. No panic, no uncertainty. I'd weather the storm, make it through unscathed, and get home to see the chick that was pregnant with my baby. That was until my partner decided he was going to say 'fuck that noise' without saying the words, to that plan! At which point my white-haired comrade placed his right hand to my right shoulder, as he was standing behind me. I glanced to my shoulder and notice then that he had bowed his head and that was when he began to speak, "God, please watch over [Faceless] and I during...", this bastard was praying. I'm going to die here, aren't I?
Obviously I did not. I did weather the storm, I did make it through, and I did get home. Unscathed and unmarked, it was a good day, really. We held out long enough to get out safely, eventually. I remember going back a couple days later to check on my unit, as they rotated us around to different positions. Upon arrival another officer told me to 'check out' the door we had used and did I feel lucky. I wagered that had they had another half hour or so to work on the door, it would have come down. All in all it was fortunate that the timeline played out the way it did. Otherwise I'd have probably been beaten, murdered, and raped. In that order and another necrophiliac would have been added to the world.
That's the bare bones of that tale.
(I'm aware that I always have a story. Whether about a game or not. Memories are important. They teach us how to handle or survive both present day and future situations and scenarios. Experience, bitches.)
Then there was this one time on a MU when some female PC wouldn't take no for an answer and I was just like...oh muh gawd. It was the worst thing ever.
