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I Felt Like Writing

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Dateline: Thursday, January 24, 2013 (Day 1,892)
Location: Lost in the Past
Music: Wish You Were Here

So, What's on the Menu for Today?
1: Challenge Coins: Go, or No Go?
2: Political Party Plug: PPP for the AMP
3: Storytime with Uncle Custer: The Garage Door Incident
4: For Your Consideration



Challenge Coins: Go, or No Go?

Oldfags will remember the Challenge Coins program that I ran back in the caveman days... it was very successful in that it attracted a shit ton of attention and well accomplished its purpose, to raise morale and bring players together.

I am currently involved in a bit of RL which limits my game play now and will hopefully reduce my idle time to zip-nada, so if y'all think the Challenge Coins program might do the game in general some good I'll want to get the thing up and running with a couple of ambitious players who'll stick with it as I disappear.

RL Challenge Coins originated in the military as a special honorarium to recognize the extra efforts or deeds of a comrade.. something that didn't quite merit an official commendation or rank increase, but shouldn't go without acknowledgement. Challenge Coins developed into becoming an identity tag for a unit, like a calling card, that soldiers would carry as luck.. The honor and history of belonging to a particular group was all in that coin in the soldier's pocket. The "challenge" was to pull your coin out and challenge another soldier to show his-- if he failed to, if he did not respect himself and his Unit enough to carry his Coin at all times, he bought you a beer.

The Challenge Coins program, as I developed and ran it in game, called attention to exemplary service above and beyond the call of duty.. At first it was limited to my own USArmy, then expanded to include all of the JCS Military, then to include the then-new "official government military" and a few key civilians.
A graphic was devised-- not one graphic for everyone, no.. this is a special honor, not a rubber stamp, so special Coins were designed for each branch being honored. Every recipient had a special graphic made for him, with depictions of face and obverse of the Coin, plus their avatar, name, military branch and rank, etc.

My favorite edition of the old Challenge Coins program?
Challenge Coins Special Edition: Golden Eagle Americans



The final installments were International awards, called Monday Minutemen, the last edition alone awarding some 900 free tanks to over 80 players from a half dozen allied nations.

So IF there's some serious interest, and IF there are three or four players who can be counted on to dedicate themselves to the task, maybe I'll help get a new Challenge Coins program set up and running.





A PPP for the AMP
^{A Political Party Plug}

I've spent the past year and a half.. maybe more.. bouncing from Party to Party, according to the official directives to save America from the National Emergency du Jour. At least half of the time the reality hasn't matched the hype.
Well, I'm done. I'm tired of feeling like a pawn, used like a tool, just another body to make a number for someone's stats.
I'm back where I started, in the American Military Party, because Haliman's got a plan.

Check out Haliman's paper, Tales From The Fishbowl.
Check out the AMP Forum-- I think there's a Guest Area where you can ask questions.
Stop by the #AMP room on IRC, too-- and if you have any questions, feel free to ping kria_erikson multiple times!
AND, they've got a radio show-- Thursday nights at 1800hrs. Come to #eAMPR to join in on the fun!



Storytime with Uncle Custer: The Garage Door Incident
^{Third in a Series, the RL Misadventures of a Crazy Old Man}


I was in Michigan, winter of '93-94, up at the cabin outside of Harrison. Family all went into town, I decided to see if I could fix the garage door. Full two-car roll-up door-- what could go wrong? So I put the door up, release the springs, go to ease the door down, and... it got away from me, and when it hit the floor the top two panels popped loose of the tracks and folded over.. onto my head. Which squooshed like a grape.
I woke up with my face frozen to a puddle of blood on the cement floor.. pried myself loose, staggered inside, did my best to assess the damage. Assembly bolts had punctured my cheeks and temples, and there was a zig-zag rip from hairline to crown-- a pressure split, like when you whack your thumb with a hammer and the end blows open. Except this was my head.

So.. "stay conscious" is the rule, and both coffee and Advil are bad for different reasons in that situation.. When the family came home, the old man offered to sew my head up. Now, I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid, so I okay'd that on the condition that he be sober enough to thread the needle.. which he could not manage.. so my head stayed wrapped up in a t-shirt, and the kids took turns keeping me awake and relatively coherent in shifts...
Along about the third day... I'd been getting in little naps, but had given the order that I must not be allowed to sleep more than an hour at a time, and even then not be left alone... I'm seeing things-- just like the old days, but without the drugs. The whole world looked like it was on the other side of an aquarium. Sometimes the aquarium was on fire. If it wasn't such a dangerous situation, and hurt so damn much, it might have been fun.
So... third day of this, no doctor, no stitches, still delirious and seeing things... the old man's wife calls my mom in California, who then calls the Sheriff there in town, and it goes kinda like this:

"Ruth? Really? I'd heard Bob had killed you."
"No, that was Jeannie, but you did nothing about that."
"Oh, that's right.. she sure was a nice lady. So how are you?"
"Fine, fine... Listen, my son is out at the cabin and he's hurt bad, and won't go to the hospital. Think maybe you could send someone out there to check on him?"
"Oh, sure.. Wait-- out to the cabin? Is Bob there? Is this son... is he like Bob? I mean.. you know we have a very small force, here, all family men, you know... and can't afford to lose any of 'em..."

So.... three cars and six Sheriffs, pretty much the entire department, came out to check on me. Because that's just how you go to Bob's place. I pulled myself together well enough to know the date and who was President and all like that, refused to let the Sheriff have a look at my head, and declined to go to the hospital. The boys were a bit nervous around my ol' man, and I wasn't exactly giving 'em much comfort, so they basically called it good and left.
It took a full two weeks for the hallucinations to subside, and three weeks at least before I stopped leaking blood and stuff outta my head.. About a month after it happened, I was out in the garage with two truck jacks and two ladders and a long pry bar, fixing that goddam garage door.

Previous installments in this erratic series:
Day 960: Storytime With Uncle Charlie; A Public Speaking Misadventure
Day 1399: Storytime with Uncle Custer; Armed Robbery



For Your Consideration

Now, kiddies... if you think that little bit of scripture was worth the couple minutes you had to sit still and pay the fuck attention...
Hadrian_X has this thing going, the Empire News Network, which, in addition to a series of podcasts called Guerilla Radio, bestows awards for good writing.
I happen to be up for the 2012 Hall of Fame, and wouldn't mind being recognized in the weekly contest which is a qualifier for the monthly award.

Shoot on over there, register and vote. If you've got a newspaper, put out something fairly literate and get your butt into the contest.



Until next time I feel like writing... drive like a nut, and don't take any crap from anyone.


George Armstrong "Old Man" Custer
Retired
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I Felt Like Writing
http://www.erepublik.com/en/article/2199802/1/20
Storytime With Uncle Custer

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