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Dedicated to the magnificent AI of the third...
...events are fictional; any resemblance to real persons is coincidental...
- Nothing's working! - Kol..ev, a gamer with years of experience, irritably pushed the keyboard away from him, - This fight is impossible to pull off! I shouldn't have entered the crypt. What good is this fucking unicorn helmet now when morale is in the minus? I'll have to retreat before the battle ends.
- Don't flame, we'll do it now, - Gr..in, the boss of the local sandbox, approached, - we've pulled off tougher fights than this. Are you going in with dendroids first? Try pulling them toward the elves, and when the pegasi fly in on the second turn, bind them and pull the elves back.
- But if the pegasi reach them, they halve the elves, - Kol..ev countered, - I've replayed this fight six times already.
- Yeah, I saw, I saw. Look: our elves are upgraded, they won't let the dendroids get close, you dig?
- Well, then the centaurs will run in and block the shooters anyway.
- They won't block them, - Gr..in began to get heated, - by that time you'll finish off the pegasi and bind the centaurs with the remaining dendroids.
- Maybe use magic on them? - I timidly spoke up. To say I knew a little about the game back then would be a great exaggeration of reality. I sometimes watched how my older brother, the aforementioned Kol..ev, snorted with passion, sending dragons at goblins, goblins at orcs, and orcs to hell, and once, in secret from him, I even tried playing myself and (I considered it a great achievement then) lasted two weeks. I didn't understand why I had no dragons in my Castle, though, and couldn't capture a single mine, but I did learn how to buy out troops.
Both great gamers stared at me with contempt.
- Well, if you're so smart, why aren't you wearing a striped shirt and marching in formation? - Gr..in asked me snidely. He was very proud of being the oldest in our group and strove to be the leader in everything. Even now he was demonstrating his—as he called it in others—"donkey-mindedness" and knowledge, or so he thought, of national cinematic classics.
I was wearing a striped shirt, and I even opened my mouth to point this fact out to these two jerks, but I changed my mind. As my brief life experience showed, such attempts to prove one's rightness had yet to lead to anything good. But that didn't save me.
- Well, if he's so smart, let him try it himself, - my brother suggested, glancing snidely in my direction, - and we'll go have some beer in the meantime, since our throats are already dry.
- Exactly, exactly, that'd be like, cool, - Gr..in supported him, parodying either Beavis or Butt-Head, - bet he can't even wipe out the pegasi at the computer?
- No, he'll wipe the pegasi, but not the elves, - my brother replied, loading a save.
- He won't wipe the pegasi! I bet a case of beer! - Gr..in shouted excitedly.
My brother thought for a minute.
- Deal. He'll wipe the pegasi, - after which he turned his gaze to me, - Well, go on... hero... Just try not to wipe those pegasi...
The hairs that had started to stir on my head finally stood on end. I cast a mournful glance at the door, but my legs firmly—or rather, softly—refused to help me escape. I had a vague suspicion that they were about to refuse to support my torso above floor level altogether. If it weren't for the chair helpfully pushed forward by my brother, I simply don't know how this would have ended.
Two elven armies lined up on the monitor screen before my eyes. A cursory glance at them revealed no differences in quality or quantity. I found out later that the greyish land with bones where the troops stood was called "cursed" and negated the advantages of my commander, a high-level mage. The opponent, however, had an expert in tactics and leadership, further loaded to the brim with artifacts increasing morale and luck. Some of my troops were upgraded, though; and I had slightly more gnomes (as my brother affectionately called them—homos).
- Well, what are you stalling for, - Gr..in's shout broke me out of contemplating this idyll, - his pegasi have already waited, move your own.
With a trembling hand, I grabbed the mouse and clicked somewhere in the middle of the field. Immediately, comments followed behind my back, interspersed with the periodic glugging of beer being swallowed:
- Well... Not bad... Look, on the next turn he reaches the shooters...
- Sucks! His pegasi are gonna rip him apart now!
- Then he'll shoot at them with elves in a straight line.
- No, his elves will fire first.
- Ah! I get it! Now the computer will bring centaurs to him, he wants to take them out first!
- No way, he'll move the pegasi and reach the centaurs with gnomes if luck is on his side...
Then it hit me. With a serious expression, I turned to the arguers and growled:
- Well, why are you interfering with my thinking? I don't like it when people peek! Go drink in the kitchen.
To my great surprise, it worked.
- True, let's go to the kitchen, - my brother said, - we'll smoke outside. He'll be messing around for half an hour anyway.
- Exactly, exactly... He-he... - Beavis... I mean Gr..in, clucked.
The great players, granting me arrogant looks upon departure and letting out a couple more jokes, left. Once I was sure of this fact, I closed the door tightly, pressed "Autocombat," and, curling up in the chair, covered my face with my hands. Joyless and slightly strange images floated before me: surviving pegasi drinking beer by the case with Gr..in, my brother firing twice at dendroids, two homos... that is, gnomes...
A nudge on the door brought me back to life. Quickly turning off "Autocombat," I glanced at the screen—the battle was still going. Then I turned to those who had entered...
You should have seen it. Before the eyes of the astonished gamers, my last six gnomes were cheerfully beating five weakly resisting enemy elves. The final touch was a lone wounded dendroid with 3 hit points of health, rushing to take part in the slaughter of the unfortunate elves. The jaws of the titled players only didn't hit the floor because there was a thick carpet on it.
To Gr..in's credit, he was the first to recover.
- You... - he said hoarsely, - ah, damn! Clearing his throat, he continued: - You better pull that dendroid back. They'll finish him off.
- Well, - my brother, not yet recovered, supported him not very confidently, - they'll finish him off for sure. For sure... Drink beer... By the way, Gr..in, looks like you owe a case of beer. Or am I wrong?
Added after 33 seconds
The Teetotaler Society has come out categorically against the new computer game "HoMM 4". In their view, the game is propaganda for the excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages and completely disorients the younger generation regarding the mechanism and results of its effect on the body. How else to explain numerous examples in the game where a hero who has drunk a bottle, having fallen after a hit, immediately stands back up? The now significantly diminished Teetotaler Society appeals to our youth: do not believe it! A person who has drunk a bottle falls BEFORE the hit, and does not stand up again! Former members of the society have repeatedly tested this on themselves...
How to tell a fourth hero from a third? The third always walks with someone: a dog, for example, or a wife. If you suggest that the hero part with his companion and he cannot—then he is one of the thirds. However, one should be careful: have you perhaps encountered an unorganized screaming herd at times, moving slowly along an uneven trajectory and scaring away lonely wandering peaceful units? No, this is not a Barbarian hero from the thirds who gathered a crowd of screamers in the Stronghold and is going to wipe out necros. Usually, this cluster, which cannot exist as individual specimens, turns out to be a bunch of fourth heroes (without monsters) who have had too many bottles per snout and consequently cannot move independently toward their home Castle.
Added after 33 seconds
A Barbarian is sitting in a tavern, drinking beer. He wants to go to the toilet. He thinks:
- Yeah, I'll go now, someone will drink my beer...
He sees an elf sitting at the next table.
- Listen, brother, watch my beer, I'll be right back.
The elf sits there—he wants a drink, then a leprechaun enters.
- Hey, why are you just sitting here?
- Just watching some barb's beer...
- Let's play a prank and drink his beer!!!
- No way—he'll come back and beat us both up...
- Come on, we'll think of something...
Anyway, they drank the beer. The elf says:
- Well, what do we do now?
- Let's do this—the barb comes back, asks where the beer is, you say "Wwwell...", and I'll come out and cover for you!!!
The barb returns.
- Listen, where's the beer?
- Wwwell....
The leprechaun enters:
- What "WELL", where's the beer????
Added after 56 seconds
A little son asks his Hero father:
- Dad, what is an "alternative"?
The latter chewed his lips, thought, and said:
- Well, how to explain it so you'd get it... For example, say you decided to wipe out your neighbor. You save money, save resources, and build the Hydra Pond...
- So, - says the impatient son, - is the Hydra Pond the alternative?
- No, - his father answers, - don't interrupt. Now you've built the Hydra Pond, waited a bit, and bought, say, fifty hydras...
- Ah! I get it! - says the little son, - the alternative is the hydra, right?
- No, not the hydra, - says the father, - Well, you bought fifty hydras and charged at the neighbor. But that scoundrel has Armageddon's Blade...
- Hm, - the confused little son intervenes hesitantly, - then, probably, Armageddon's Blade is the alternative?
- No, son, - the father sighs sorrowfully. - And your neighbor wipes out all your damn troops on the third turn...
After a long pause, the son decides to break the silence and cautiously asks:
- Dad... Uh, dad... I still don't understand—what is an alternative?
- An alternative, son, - his father answers firmly, - is whatever the hell you want!
Added after 36 seconds
Rename "Order" castle to "Unity", "Chaos" castle to "CPRF", "Death" castle to "LDPR", "Power" castle to "Motherland", "Nature" castle to "Apple", "Life" castle to "SPS". All creatures outside the castle are to be considered single-mandate representatives.
Added after 1 minute
A genie decided to get a job as a bodyguard. He sends out resumes via ads: claiming he is compact, half-air, knows special moves—song of peace, slow... In short, a dream guard. All employers seem to bite at first and invite him for an interview, but as soon as they see him, immediately:
- Ah... But you're blue... We don't take those.
The genie got tired of this, and preparing for a meeting with another employer, dove into a barrel of tar. He arrives, and Michael Jackson is sitting there and tells him right from the threshold:
- Oooh... Blackened... We don't take those.
The genie smeared himself in lime. He comes to a meeting—Gupi Voldberg is sitting there:
- Uh... Sorry, we don't take those.
Out of desperation, the genie bought all sorts of paints and smeared himself like the ultimate punk in all the colors of the rainbow. He comes to be hired, Maurice Boiseev meets him and:
- Ew, dis-gusting... We don't ta-ake those...
P.S. Any resemblance to real persons or surnames is coincidental.
P.P.S. In case this text infringes on anyone's rights and freedoms, I allow the mods to delete it without trial or investigation.
P.P.P.S. (Not to be confused with the USSR) Don't get angry. It's just a joke...
Added after 1 minute
- Tell me, what do you value most in vod... I mean, in Heroes?
- Of course, their solidity, the transparency... uh... of the Gameplay, the sensations—that's also important, yes, because bad Heroes can give bad sensations, especially in the mornings. I love taking an unopened pack of Heroes, slowly tearing off the wrapper... Then that sound of the opening bottl... sorry, box, the bitter aroma of a fresh disc... The first campaign...
- By the way, about the first one. What do you usually say when starting a new campaign?
- Well, we French are a passionate people, as you know. Sometimes you don't even have time to say anything—bam, and it's done... Here, the main thing is the snack; I mean, chewing something in front of the monitor, you know, like Americans with their popcorn... And bad habits are sometimes useful...
- As they say here in Russia, between the first and second there's a small break...
- ...So that the bullet doesn't have time to whistle? Yes, yes, we say that too. Yes, campaigns in Heroes are such that you surprise yourself. By looks—a full-weight campaign, you think, now while I complete it... Then look—and it's already gone! Now you have to start a third one...
- Well, the campaigns are clear. What about singles?
- No, no, singles are not interesting. While we are in company... Do you get my pun? Ha-ha! I think we'll smoke now and continue... about campaigns. Am I the producer or what, from end to end? In my opinion, there's still a bit left at the bottom of the box...
- Holy cow, "a bit"! There's more than one time's worth left, after all, the volume is... A gigabyte for two—that's not just scratching your navel with a dirty finger. And what will be the volume of the new... uh, what are they called? Ah, these Heroes!
- Well, the volume is as always. No matter what volume of Heroes you make, you always have to run for... patches more than once. And here you have to be careful not to make a mistake, otherwise you'll take the wrong one and it won't fit well on the previous one... Not much pleasure in that.
- We're talking about sad things. Since it came up, we can drink to those who are no longer with us... I mean, did you meet the ZDO-ers?
- I don't remember—probably was... uh, very busy, didn't notice. To hell with them... Instead of setting up a proper AI... They, damn it, some kind of bootleg... console...
- Well, that's right, screw them... Now listen here. We seem to have a genre crisis—the box is almost empty...
- What are you talking about? I have money like a lord, ha-ha! Which lord? Well, from Heroes, some monster or something... Damn, it's stuck... Screw it anyway! Is there anywhere around here to get a patch in the middle of the game?
- Whoa! Now that's our man! High five! What was your name again? Oh, I'll call you Fambik! Or Kambik! Deal? Good boy!
- Give me a high five! I respect Russians too... They, damn it, just... drown out Heroes... I'm just amazed. And they always want new ones. No, damn, well done...
Added after 1 minute
One druid is walking toward another, all in bandages, arm in a cast. The other asks him:
- What happened to you?
- You remember I used to collect earth elementals?
- Yeah.
- I kept them in an enclosure, and they couldn't get out—it was protected by magic. And they really wanted to escape.
- So what?
- Well. The gamer installed TGS, and nothing happened; then he installed WoW, survived that too.
- AND ???
- And then he installed Equilibris...
Added after 43 seconds
Ubisoft let beta testers try out new Heroes. After a couple of days of playing, several of the lucky few meet and exchange their first impressions. One says:
- Ubisoft made some really unbalanced heroes. I tried playing as Kira, and absolutely every neutral unit I encountered joined me!
- What's that? - another replies, - I played as Sir Mullich. Under his leadership, my dwarves would run up to the enemy archangels, hit them, and run back to their position so fast that the others didn't even have time to respond!
The third tester remained silent for a while, then finally spoke:
- Nah, crappy game. I couldn't even properly play with my favorite Solmyr.
The first two ask him:
- What's the matter? Solmyr is supposed to be awesome...
- Oh yeah, as awesome as it gets, - the third replies. - Do you even know what a chain lightning hitting 36 squads looks like? Even a hero on horseback got hit a couple of times...
Added after 1 minute
After visiting the blacksmith, a Knight receives a bill:
"For hammer strike - 3 zlotys. For searching for the spot for an accurate
hammer strike - 97 zlotys. Total - 100 zlotys".
Lord:
- Barbarian, your last three wishes.
- Any?
- Yes!
Barbarian:
- An axe, armor, and hold on tight, you bastards!
Lord:
- You have committed eight robberies in one week. Is that even possible?
Thief:
- I worked day and night, your honor. If everyone labored as I do, our kingdom would have been on the path to prosperity long ago.
Witness, do you know the defendant?
- Of course, very well! For a while, we worked together in the Castle.
- How was that?
- One night I sneaked into the castle, and he was already there cracking the treasury. I had to help.
Tavern owner to a hero:
- I hasten to bring you joyful news. I was just in the kitchen, and they told me that you were right: you weren't given soup, but slops!
- Knight!
- Present!
- Mage!
- Present!
- Barbarian!
- Mine!
- What "Mine"?
- Yes sir!
- What "Yes sir"?
- Hurrah-aaaaaaa!!!
Two thieves are sitting in a port tavern.
- You had lunch at a restaurant today!
- How do you know?
- You have a new coat.
A peasant looks into a well: it's deep.
He shouts:
- Deep!
Echo:
- ...deep...
He shouts again:
- Deep!
Echo:
- Deep...
- Deep!
- ...deep...
He throws a bucket into the well and pulls it out. He shouts:
- Got it!
Echo:
- ...deep...
He thinks and thinks, then shouts again:
- Deep!
Echo:
- GOT IT!!!
In a crowded tavern, a druid falls right on top of a monk.
- Whoa! whoa!
And looks at him in surprise.
- Not "whoa whoa"! But the key to the Temple!