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 A tale of two snipers

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1604127

1604127


Join date : 2013-03-31

A tale of two snipers Empty
PostSubject: A tale of two snipers   A tale of two snipers EmptyTue Oct 14, 2014 5:14 pm

THE EFFECTS OF AUTHOR-CREATED PROJECTION IN MULTIMEDIA WORLDS

by Dell Conagher


Just before we begin, I'd like to point out that I resent this. My jurisdiction is that of practical problems, and this little story or whatever the hell you want to call it seems...impractical. I'm not a writer or an artist or anything like that. I have my machines, and that's more than enough. Still, even I was confused by A tale of two snipers, which was the first thing that greeted me when I booted up that coal-powered computer the Administrator sent me. At first blush, I wasn't sure what this damn thing was even supposed to be. I thought that the Gravel Wars were supposed to be secretive. How could somebody write a story about it? This question was only the beginning of a relentless dive into madness. This...the fanfiction? It's too moronic to think about too long. The first sign that the story was not going to meet my standards was that it appeared to have been written by a random string of letters.

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A tale of two snipers, by kirouchichan13

This isn't any name I've ever heard of. Kirouchichan sounds like some kind of ancient Aztec city to me.

It starts off with a description that beautifully sets the stage for the rest of our tale. What skillful description! Reminds me of the tumbleweeds rolling past at dawn.

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I stared up at the large abandoned looking building before looking back down at the paper in my hand. 'This is the right address' I think to myself unsurely. I walk through the large main entrance and instantly have to press myself against the wall as someone runs by. I look in the direction the person came from and see a medic running after him wearing a red and white medic uniform covered in bright pink paint. He yells profanities in german at the kid as he runs by. I just shake my head and walk in the direction they came from.

Little lady, "abandoned looking" isn't sufficient explanation for what the building looks like. Abandoned buildings are like DNA strands - no two are alike. How could anybody tell it was abandoned? Were there vines growing up the sides? Were the windows boarded up? And as long as I'm here asking things, what building is it? It could be a darn igloo for all I'm told about it.

I suppose this gent here is supposed to be our Medic. It's obvious he's a medic, he's wearing a medic's uniform. Didn't your pappy ever tell you what those look like? Paint though, that's something I know about. Seems like everybody wants to paint their clothes and wear snazzy little "unusuals" and whatever strikes their fancy. I never got into that sort of thing. Just seems like a waste.

And speaking of segues, the story continues:

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Hoping to find others I walk into a large room. Looking around I see some couches and a couple of tables along with an attached industrial kitchen. Walking in I hear movement in the kitchen, being curious I walk over and peak inside. I see a person, dressed in a red and black rubber suit with black gloves and a black gas mask on, cooking a very delicious looking meal. The person looks up at me as I walk into the kitchen, a floor board squeaking under my foot. Its head tilts and it waves at me before going back to cooking. I wave back and go sit on a couch waiting to see if others show up.

This whole thing reads like it was written for a police report. I'm getting some uncomfortable feelings about this. This other guy, who has to be Pyro-I've never actually seen him eating a meal in his life. That would require him to take off his mask, unless there's some weird feeding tube in there I don't know about. Is this supposed to be something that actually happened? Who is this woman, Mrs. Pauling?

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Several minutes later I look up hearing a few voices growing louder. I watch as a large, heavy set man with a shaved head walks in along with a tall slender man in a suit wearing a ski mask and a tall man wearing a hat and yellow aviator sunglasses. They all stop in their tracks when they see me and I wave over at them.

Heavy and Spy. You know, I rarely see those two together. They're not exactly two peas in a pod, you know. And I have no clue where this woman is getting aviator sunglasses from. Does the Spy wear those?

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The biggest, heavy-set one walks over to me as the other two just look at each other. He stops in front of me and I just look up at him. His voice is deep and heavily laced with a Russian accent as he speaks to me, "Who are you puny little girl?!" I smile softly making him seem confused and speak in a strong yet kind voice laced with a slight southern accent. "I'm the newest recruit to Team R.E.D."

Why are we meeting this woman in an abandoned building? Our team has orders to shoot non-REDs on sight. This is an atrocious idea.

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"Bullshit! They would not pick such a tiny weakling of a girl as you for our team!" I calmly stand and fix my shirt just before delivering a one inch punch to his gut making him double over then kick him in the head sending him flying backwards several feet. "I'm not as weak and feeble as I look." The others look on in surprise as does he as he sits up with a groan of pain.

I'm going to side with the Heavy here. This is manure, of the bovine persuasion. I didn't get a PhD in Aeronautics just to be told that Heavy is going to fly back "several feet" because a lady kicked him in the head. Even doubled over, I doubt a woman's leg could even reach his head. Also, attacking the team members is a bad way to introduce yourself. That's just good business sense.

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I smirk as the medic walks in now clean and wearing a fresh uniform with a younger man that is nursing a few new looking bruises and wearing a black ball cap, red t-shirt and black baseball pants and shoes. They look at me then to the heavy set man just as a black man wearing a kilt walks in drinking from a bottle of whiskey. He stops and looks between me and the big guy then starts laughing. "That your handy work there lass?" I shrug and nod noticing his Scottish accent as he starts laughing harder. "Nice job lassie!" I smile, "Thanks mate."

So, if my recollection of things is correct, the Medic gave the Scout a thrashing for...covering him in paint? Our Medic doesn't go hurting other REDs for no reason. I mean, he might try to rope you into those vile excuses for experiments, but never just because someone pissed him off. If I may add one more thing, I doubt the Demoman can tell whether he's alive or dead half the time. Immediately assuming that a woman kicked the Heavy against the wall, and then having a laugh about it doesn't suit Tavish very well. At this stage this might be a minor point to make, but Southern people generally don't say "mate". Unless...

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I see the tall man with the glasses and hat give me a slightly strange look from the corner of my eye. The person from the kitchen walks out as the medic speaks his voice laced with a heavy german accent. "So now that most of us are here, who are you and why are you here?"

This story has people popping in and out whenever they please, doesn't it? I wasn't even aware the Sniper was involved until our prized peach of an author mentioned him. But hey, we might discover who this girl really is!

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I straighten my clothes softly before speaking. "I was called here by Pauling. I'm the newest member of Team R.E.D. My name is Stephanie." The medic shakes my hand and nods.

Any validation that this woman is who she says she is? Any references? Any mention of skills, or combat training?

Nah, who needs 'em!

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"Everyone around here just calls me Doc." I nod as the others walk up. "Nice to meet you Doc."

Some people call him Doc. I know for a fact that the Spy doesn't use that nickname, and who knows what the Pyro calls him.

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The heavy set man walks up and looks away slightly shaking my hand. "My name is Rob, sorry for calling you weak, puny girl."

I don't know what the Heavy's name is, but I am sure it is not Robert. In fact, I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life.

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I roll my eyes and shake his hand back. "I am heavy weapons guy." I nod and smile softly as the man in the suit walks up his voice laced with a suave French accent. "My name is Maurice. I am the spy around here."

At least Maurice is a French name, although if the Spy has ever revealed his name to anybody, it was probably a pseudonym.

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smile and blush lightly when he kisses my hand. "Nice to meet you." "It is my pleasure." Doc then gestures to the person I saw in the kitchen. "That is pyro." I wave to him and he waves back saying something behind his mask that I can't quite understand. The black Scottish man walks up slapping a hand on my shoulder. "I'm Scott the demoman." I smile, "Nice to meet you Scott"

You see, the joke is, the joke is that he is Scottish. Another key part of this joke is that his name is actually Tavish. So, that's just false information. At least this woman didn't give the Pyro a first name.

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The young man walk up next, a thick boston accent in his voice. "My name's Johnathan. I'm the best scout you'll ever meet. Nice to meet you hot stuff." I roll my eyes and shake my head. "Nice to meet you too dork." He gets a fake hurt look on his face as the tall man with the hat and sunglasses walks up.

I see that the Scout (or Johnathan-which looked like a spelling error the first time I looked at it) is at least acting himself. Oh, and what a surprise, it's the Sniper! If he wasn't wearing a hat and sunglasses, and he was of average height, I'm not sure if the author would be able to describe him at all.

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notice as he's walking up that he's also wearing cowboy boots and has a kukri hanging from a belt loop of his brown pants. He's also wearing a red long sleeve shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a black vest over that. He holds out his hand for me to shake. As I grasp his hand to shake it he speaks, his voice laced with an australian accent. "Nice to meet you sheila. My name's Malcolm. I'm the sniper on this team. What's your specialty?"

Malcolm! Ha! Sniper's never going to hear the end of this one, let me tell you.

This isn't even the whole first paragraph, folks. I'll be returning to it soon.
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