Happy Life
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So I finished TSAR'S PRIZE: ARMOR-TANK PRINCESS and checked out the corresponding thread in the appropriate section on ХВ. And I was surprised by how "tryhard" people played, according to their stories—beating it in a single game week by abusing half a dozen OP units that random chance threw at them at the start of the game. Some spent 450 turns killing off some hero; others recruited own pathetic archers, boxed themselves in with walls and shot down slow enemies, baiting them with griffins and other flyers. Some were endlessly phantom-ing phantoms of phantoms of phantoms of inquisitors, using them to resurrect the entire army, building up new rage with them, placing a mana accelerator, and getting mana from it for more phantoms. Some bought useless giant garbage that only stomped once every two turns just to build rage, place an accelerator and a wall, get mana for phantoms, and shoot from behind the wall with archers. Some abused dragons, healing them by phantom-ing phantoms of phantoms of inquisitors who resurrect them. Everyone played as perversely as they could. Whatever floats their boat. Some said "I took a paladin from the Isle of the Dead as a partner and traveled with him on Pirate Island," which means they stole the map, flew to a late-game island just to grab a paladin, and returned. Someone talked about how he messed around with summons and jerked off over the number of battles completed without losses.
Now, I'm not trying to criticize people for how they played, because playing however you want is every player's privilege, but from my point of view, such tricks seem completely unmanly. Now, crushing the enemy to dust with an iron fist—that's something else. I played as a paladin because a paladin is man own, and because I played the original as a mage. Except for the beginning of the game when there are no troops yet and you have no choice but to use all sorts of scam services, I kept my army in absolute genetic purity, as the Emperor commanded. Brave knights, selfless guardsmen, crushing paladins, terrifying riders, and fanatical inquisitors—none of whom I cast a phantom on. All according to the meta. No undead, no mages, no mutants, no creatures or chaotic spawns. Only once did I travel with cerberus because I never appreciated demons in the original after dropping them somewhere on either the elven or orc continent, and once with a dinosaur—it looked very funny, and swordsmen often died. That's it. The Emperor was merciful and in His grace allowed me to run over those chickens like a steamroller. Little can compare for a humble servant of humanity to the destruction and smashing into mush of the various filth contained within the game's zoo. And perfectionism and zero-loss battles? But why? No, of course I used inquisitor and paladin resurrections, as well as resurrection from the paladin mastery and the same via spell—inevitably, since it's my character class—but I used them in moderation. Once you step onto the easy path of chaos and game-masturbation and spend thirty mana to raise one knight who fell with honor; once you create a phantom of an inquisitor just so he can give you rage for mana for a resurrect and bring someone back; once you start fencing off the battlefield with walls to shoot someone with pathetic archers—there is no turning back. You will forever stain yourself with the fear of taking losses and spending extra money; you will satisfy your sense of perfectionism, but you will not taste the joy of a bloody victory, returning to the capital in triumph and recruiting new same-glory seekers into the army.
Mass haste, charge—a deadly rider in an open field slams into some non-human long-eared filth archers and breaks an entire stack in one charge. Well yeah, I crossed the whole field in one turn. Didn't expect that, you pointy-eared chicken? Maybe I don't have 50 attack, but I have a 92% crit! Stomp-stomp, the baby stomps. No, he's not a baby; he's a heavy armored knight, like a hippo, who in one turn, with maxed-out tactics and haste, steadily enters the encirclement and carves through the bodies of mutants and heretics with his mighty broadsword. A whole horde of undead, elves, demons, and other gutter-dwellers throws itself at him, but he's not interested—he has a hundred defense, and every incredibly powerful blow from another overfed deformed sow (representing a new twist in the fantasy designers' imagination) leaves only a scratch on his armor. And if I run into some noob with a primary contingent of archers, rubbing their hands and shaking their sidelocks in anticipation of shooting my defenseless melee warriors, they get a surprise in the form of a third-level target that hangs onto a monstrous armored leviathan, drawing all the fire and becoming heavier with every hit. The inquisitor isn't some backline rat-buffbot either; he closes the distance for a straight shot and combat valor, getting almost point-blank and unleashing the power of holy scripture into the enemy's face, mowing down a legion of unrested skeletons and demons in one shot. Sometimes I felt that the inquisitor wasn't getting maximum satisfaction from fighting enemies of mankind, and then I led him into hand-to-hand combat. The paladin grants a second turn to the terrifying armored tank carving through three-quarters of a stack per hit, or to the deadly cavalry that subsequently redeploys to another flank to suppress another firing point, and then joins the battle himself, cruising in shining golden armor and critting every blow. Now that's a fight and that's valor. What else is needed? Can a festival of valor and the monstrous holy power of the Emperor really be compared to some cowardly fluttering back and forth, shooting from behind a wall for four hundred and fifty turns, or spending another fifty turns disabling the last slow unit—all for own anal amusements with clones and resurrections? To turning the army of the prophecy hero into a shitty non-atmospheric zoo made of a bunch of ugly creatures and some random losers? Is that even possible? For me, definitely not. To each their own, obviously.
Now, I'm not trying to criticize people for how they played, because playing however you want is every player's privilege, but from my point of view, such tricks seem completely unmanly. Now, crushing the enemy to dust with an iron fist—that's something else. I played as a paladin because a paladin is man own, and because I played the original as a mage. Except for the beginning of the game when there are no troops yet and you have no choice but to use all sorts of scam services, I kept my army in absolute genetic purity, as the Emperor commanded. Brave knights, selfless guardsmen, crushing paladins, terrifying riders, and fanatical inquisitors—none of whom I cast a phantom on. All according to the meta. No undead, no mages, no mutants, no creatures or chaotic spawns. Only once did I travel with cerberus because I never appreciated demons in the original after dropping them somewhere on either the elven or orc continent, and once with a dinosaur—it looked very funny, and swordsmen often died. That's it. The Emperor was merciful and in His grace allowed me to run over those chickens like a steamroller. Little can compare for a humble servant of humanity to the destruction and smashing into mush of the various filth contained within the game's zoo. And perfectionism and zero-loss battles? But why? No, of course I used inquisitor and paladin resurrections, as well as resurrection from the paladin mastery and the same via spell—inevitably, since it's my character class—but I used them in moderation. Once you step onto the easy path of chaos and game-masturbation and spend thirty mana to raise one knight who fell with honor; once you create a phantom of an inquisitor just so he can give you rage for mana for a resurrect and bring someone back; once you start fencing off the battlefield with walls to shoot someone with pathetic archers—there is no turning back. You will forever stain yourself with the fear of taking losses and spending extra money; you will satisfy your sense of perfectionism, but you will not taste the joy of a bloody victory, returning to the capital in triumph and recruiting new same-glory seekers into the army.
Mass haste, charge—a deadly rider in an open field slams into some non-human long-eared filth archers and breaks an entire stack in one charge. Well yeah, I crossed the whole field in one turn. Didn't expect that, you pointy-eared chicken? Maybe I don't have 50 attack, but I have a 92% crit! Stomp-stomp, the baby stomps. No, he's not a baby; he's a heavy armored knight, like a hippo, who in one turn, with maxed-out tactics and haste, steadily enters the encirclement and carves through the bodies of mutants and heretics with his mighty broadsword. A whole horde of undead, elves, demons, and other gutter-dwellers throws itself at him, but he's not interested—he has a hundred defense, and every incredibly powerful blow from another overfed deformed sow (representing a new twist in the fantasy designers' imagination) leaves only a scratch on his armor. And if I run into some noob with a primary contingent of archers, rubbing their hands and shaking their sidelocks in anticipation of shooting my defenseless melee warriors, they get a surprise in the form of a third-level target that hangs onto a monstrous armored leviathan, drawing all the fire and becoming heavier with every hit. The inquisitor isn't some backline rat-buffbot either; he closes the distance for a straight shot and combat valor, getting almost point-blank and unleashing the power of holy scripture into the enemy's face, mowing down a legion of unrested skeletons and demons in one shot. Sometimes I felt that the inquisitor wasn't getting maximum satisfaction from fighting enemies of mankind, and then I led him into hand-to-hand combat. The paladin grants a second turn to the terrifying armored tank carving through three-quarters of a stack per hit, or to the deadly cavalry that subsequently redeploys to another flank to suppress another firing point, and then joins the battle himself, cruising in shining golden armor and critting every blow. Now that's a fight and that's valor. What else is needed? Can a festival of valor and the monstrous holy power of the Emperor really be compared to some cowardly fluttering back and forth, shooting from behind a wall for four hundred and fifty turns, or spending another fifty turns disabling the last slow unit—all for own anal amusements with clones and resurrections? To turning the army of the prophecy hero into a shitty non-atmospheric zoo made of a bunch of ugly creatures and some random losers? Is that even possible? For me, definitely not. To each their own, obviously.
My sword, my trusted ally, unphased by my aspect.
