Atlantis Times v1.1 v02n09 From: JJC%MP068@MPA15AB.mv-oc.Unisys.COM Date: Tue, 17 May 1994 03:29:06 +0000 ######################################################################## =-=-= Atlantis Times v1.1 Volume 2 Number 9 =-=-= ######################################################################## Words from The Big Guy: REMEMBER, send game problems to: jjc@MPA15C.mv-oc.unisys.com. I don't read the mail at the other addresses!!! Remember, there is a limit of 72 characters per line for Times submissions. Anything over 72 characters will wrap around auto- matically. Well, we no longer have heffalump. The mailing list is no longer available. I'll keep running the game, but we really need a list server of some sort. Anybody got a system we can use? Send Times to: jjc@mpa15ab.mv-oc.unisys.com Send Orders to: JJC@MP068.MV-OC.UNISYS.COM Send problems/comments/bug reports/questions to me personally at: jjc@mpa15c.mv-oc.unisys.com I read the mail at the times address once a week, when I'm setting up the Times. I NEVER read mail where the orders go to, so don't send anything but orders there. Good luck, and enjoy. - TBG ######################################################################## Now that his students, the Black Riders, were fully qualified in their "arts", the Black Father of the Brotherhood had much more free time to indulge his dark thoughts. He rode west into Xaza, in search of inspiration. In the late afternoon, as he sat by his campfire festering, he looked up to see, not 10 yards distant, a pair of Feet. He leapt to his own. The Feet, fully 5 yards from toe to heel, rose above him, ending abruptly at the ankles some 10 feet from the ground. Above that point, Grieve knew the giant was invisible. He knew of only one mage in Atlantis with the lore to summon Feet. As if in answer to his thoughts, that figure emerged from behind the gargantuan heels, and approached the terrified Father. The mage was boyish in appearance, with a scar across his face that divided his mouth at the centre. "You!", hissed the Black Father. The Innkeeper stopped six feet from Grieve, and regarded him icily. "The Enfants d'Orhan, servants of the Mist, have perished at your hand", he said evenly. "You have betrayed the Brotherhood and the Mist. You are jam." "No!", screamed Grieve as a huge Foot rose into the air. He tried to run, taking only five strides before the giant took one. ######################################################################## Dear Editor It was very courteous of Dr. Duncan, Professor of Political Science, University of Zamora (faction 21) to offer his analysis of effective cavalry in the August edition of the Atlantis Times. There is, however, a flaw innhis analysis according to my understanding of the use of horses. It has long been understood that one can GAIN a max. of 2 levels of skill but the roder needs only have a riding skill of one. Nowhere have I seen where the rider needs a riding skill of two to gain the combat bonus as assumed by Dr. D. (for dunce). ######################################################################## Sludge walked out of the meeting hall into the bright sunlight. The Vermin had just reported another successful performance. The amazing thing about it, they got exactly the same amount in handouts as last month. Certainly made budgeting easier. As he stood in the square, looking over the bustling peasants, five of the newest Vermin ran up to him. They were currently in clown school, learning how to be entertainers. "Sludge!" Each of the Vermin gave Sludge fifty silver. Sludge scowled. "Weren't you supposed to be practicing?" "We were. You won't believe it, people paid to watch us practice." Sludge looked at them; he didn't believe it. "He's right," another said, "there we were, carrying these crossbows that one of the Rodeo clowns dropped off, and we go up to a group of peasants and ask them if they want to watch us practice." "Next thing we know, they're saying 'Do not hurt us!'. I tell 'em that we're only going to practice, and we probably won't drop anything on their toes or anything." "So we practice, and have you ever tried to juggle holding a crossbow? Norman here accidentally fires his, narrowly missing one of the peasants. They next thing we know, they gave each of us fifty silver and ran off." Norman looked disappointed. "They didn't even tell us how they liked the juggling." Sludge frowned. The peasants of Atlantis never ceased to amaze him. He couldn't wait until these boys actually started performing. ------------------------------- The Skulking Vermin! World renowned entertainers and vagabonds. More stupid one-liners than Laugh In! ------------------------------- Skulking Vermin (109) ######################################################################## WHEN TO STOP STUDYING When should the troops stop studying and start doing something else? Is it worthwhile to have level 14 crossbowmen? To answer this, combat against a highly skilled opponent should be examined. Crossbow: Combat with crossbow does not depend on the skill of the opponent. The opponent is always treated as skill level 0. A skill difference of 2 or more yields the maximum chance of hitting (49%). Because there is no advantage to having a skill level difference of 3 or more, it is not worthwhile to study beyond level 2. However, if the opponent is inside a building, there is a penalty of 2 on the skill level. A skill level of 4 is necessary to maximize the odds of hitting opponents in buildings. Longbow: Like the crossbow, the longbow does not depend on the skill level of the opponent. Because the opponent is always treated as having a skill level of 2, a skill in longbow of 4 is needed to obtain the 49% chance of hitting. If the opponent is inside a building, level 6 is required. Sword: Unlike the bows, combat with sword depends on the skill level of the opponent. Because the opponent can have any skill level, there is no maximum skill level that is guaranteed to maximize the odds of hitting. However, because there is no advantage to having a skill level more than 2 higher than the opponent (4 if the opponent is inside a building), highly skilled swordsmen should avoid wasting their skills against poorly trained opponents. This analysis courtesy of Dr. Duncan, Professor of Political Science, University of Zamora (faction 21). ######################################################################## UNIDENTIFIED SHIP SIGHTINGS REMAIN UNSUBSTANTIATED Rumours of ships sighted off the northern coast of the southern continent continue to flourish in the gutter press. The artists' impressions shown in these publications have varied wildly from showing naked savages streaming form a raft, through futuristic depictions of bizarre amphibious vessels, to the most common picture of bronzed amazon ladies splashing from the water wearing little but G-strings and armoured brassiers. In two or three coastal towns the town criers have been passed unsubstantiated reports of one or more ships raiding the coast, and have dutifully passed on the message as their job demands, creating some momentary panic amongst the peaceful city dwellers. However subsequent investigations by the Atlantis Times have been unable to confirm any of these reports. Freelance tactical analyst, Thag Thorsen, has advised that these rumours should be treated with every suspicion, since the economics of building a ship and using it as a primary war vehicle are dubious at best. ######################################################################## ___/| The MUSADites are prowd to /_o \ announce that from September on they \___ \ will have horses surplus to their \\ \____________/\ requirements and that these fine \\ |\\ animals will be made available to the \\ __________ | \| general public at a starting price of || | || | $40 . Larson's Adventurers estimated || | || | the value of a horse at between $37 || | || | and $47 in their article in novembers o o/_/ //_/ o Times. Contact "Orange A" at \|/ \|/ \|/ u9127658@athmail.causeway.qub.ac.uk ######################################################################## Doktor Vox clumped wearily back to his camp-chair beside the big tent. Seemed to him this campaign was taking *forever*, and the weather would be turning cold soon. But here they were on the plains of Farafra, due south of the Emperor's capitol in Mizip. He'd heard a rumor recently that old Shaddam IV had been resurrected somehow, and was seen in Mizip. Pity. Senility like this shouldn't be preserved beyond it's natural span, spice or no spice. Anyway, it was another chance to see if his skin really was as well-preserved as they said; Vox would love to see it stretched and painted on his wall. The spice really was a miracle -- the hide-curers said it prevented all brittleness, and turned human skin into a lovely vellum. Vox's maps were looking better all the time! And as a side benefit, it made a wonderful barbecue spice, and there was *lots* to barbecue. But my oh my, this war coordination was time-consuming! Vox rubbed his aching feet as he settled into his chair. He'd just finished supervising the dispatch of the Diamante scout that had brazenly wandered into town, trying the tax-revolt number. The fellow had been hanged, gibbeted, flayed, drawn and quartered, cut into strips, boiled in vinegar (with just a touch of that wonderful spice), and fricasseed with swamp-root and potatoes. Now *that* was the way to treat a tax revolutionary! He'd make a nice lunch, too. Dr. Vox picked up the Times for a quick browse before he had to head back to coordinate the camp-breaking. On page three, he snorted. Wizards going FFffffooooopp and disappearing, indeed! Unless the fellow invented a time-compression spell first, he seriously doubted the veracity of seeing this happen in August! And another excessively learned article from Larson, claiming to know all about killing peasants. Pah. He probably never tasted one in his life. Vox wondered if Larson's much- vaunted military skills might be put to the test some day soon...he suspected that theory and practice might diverge a bit. At least the Times verified that his little rogue scout down south was finally doing something useful, even if he was a bit doubtful about the ship-building venture. But warships might be useful sometime next year; though poor old Dances on Oceans might be a bit surprised to hear they would be warships. The fellow seemed to be a bit divorced from reality...almost like he thought this was a game, or something. Sigh. Shoes on. (good leather). Back to work. ######################################################################## Derek burst into the room, his face sweating with excitement. "Look at this!" he exclaimed to his two morose apprentices. "According to this article in the Times, the Thoughtmages of Drakewood have achieved time travel! This puts us all at their mercy!" The two apprentices flinched not one bit. "Well, you're thinking that they just discovered some sort of teleportation spell," Derek continued, "but this is plainly impossible. We have discovered all of the spells that anyone could in a mere twenty months. Thus, to discover a matter transferance spell, they must have had more time." Still the apprentices did not react. "Don't you see? More time! They must have discovered both the matter transferance and time travel in the future! Then, they came back to the present! This gives them a monstrous advantage over the other inhabitants of Atlantis. Why, they probably know every spell possible." Not a muscle twitched on the sullen apprentices faces. "Further, they could have raised millions of silver pieces in the future, and then brought it back here, to establish their empire! The rest of us are doomed!" ######################################################################## Once upon a time. The young rake named crohyze slipped into a hormuz stronghold. He knew what he wanted. A fire spitter. The feared weapon of the hormuz. Used to impose their will upon crohyze and his people for generations. It was hot. The zeezids were noisy. And filled the night air with their buzzing. Sweat rolled down crohyze's face. Streaking his face with paint. There were guards in front of the hormuz arsenal. They were not asleep. But crohyze flitted by them. His footsteps drowned out by the zeezids buzzing in the night breeze. The long winding halls of the hormuz arsenal were dark. Knife in hand. Crohyze slid down them. He knew the fire spitters. Probably better than the hormuz themselves. He knew which was the oldest. The most powerful. The most dangerous. Only by listening to the tone of the breathing issuing from each of the arsenal cells. Crohyze had been as silent as he could until now. But the next moments would rely only upon speed. And surprise. To be continued. ######################################################################## Code Wanted The Niskby Theoretical Institute is currently working on a GUI front end for analysis and presentation of monthly reports and would gladly accept submissions for the following subjects: 1) Report parser - this module should be capable of reading/ parsing a monthly report and passing the entries back in the following structure: struct ReportEntry { short entryType; // 0=invalid, 1=region, 2=myunit, // 3=otherunit, 4=spell short x,y; // coordinates short unitNum; char name[NAMESZ]; // unit name, NAMESZ=81 char display[DISPSZ]; // display text, DISPSZ=161 short number; // number of people/peasants long money; short faction; short behind; short guard; short avoid; char combatSpell[NAMESZ]; short skills[17]; // alphabetic order char default[NAMESZ]; // default orders short items[4]; // Horse, Iron, Stone, Wood spell *spellItem; // spell name and description // spell is a sturcture for a char array magic *magicItem; // magic items // magic is a structure for a char array }; The information should be entered into a pointer to an entry of the above structure type that will be passed into the parsing routine. 2) A command file generation routine. This routine should accept a set of parameters or structure (I'm open on this one), and write the command to a file. The final result of this module should be a submitable command file. [Please note that the above should be in C++ and it would be helpful if the MicroSoft Foundation Class was utilized for base objects.] {Mail can go to the Niskby Theoretical Institute at the address dbs@mp003.mv-oc.unisys.com} TIA ######################################################################## Falstaff the Poet paced his study nervously.. ``Two months, and still no word from Arkadia... _What is going on here?_'' True, the last report had the Crescent Crusaders firmly entrenched, with training well underway, but it is always better to avoid a battle than to win. At least they are not alone, by Atnerks, they even have spell-casters on their side. The mysterious letters that were passing around the Alliance, apparently from The Grey Death Mercenaries, were also troubling.. Did they rule out the possibility of (Atnerks forbid!) hiring them to assist in the defense of Alliance land? Arkadia: Would you please engage diplomatic relations? Pony Express: meyer@ph.und.ac.za Kevin Meyer, Plasma Physics Research Institute | Lab: +27(0)31 2601351 University of Natal, Durban, South Africa | TimeZone: GMT + 2 ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ** finger 'kevmeyer@images.cs.und.ac.za' for PGP key ** ######################################################################## You will all be assimilated. Resistance is futile... oops, wrong game :-) ######################################################################## "Those peasants can't sing, they can't dance, and they can barely hold a pitchfork without dropping it, so there's no way I can teach them how to juggle!" Arrete had experienced another exhausting day. "You had it easy," said Gar. "You should see how my lot goes with the horses. There's two peasants with broken feet, and another one fell off the gentlest nag we've got. Broke his arm." The two sat quietly for a few moments, then Arrete burst out laughing. "What? What's funny?" "I was just wondering how many of Flynn's trainee swordsmen are missing their fingers." ######################################################################## The Long-Awaited Continuation of the Saga of The Despised Criminal, Banana and his Brothers. Extracted from the Journals of The Brotherhood of Northern Warriors (57). "Which way did they go?" Captain Rakasha asked, holding a burning torch in her hand. Her lord, Falken, had gone off on other business, leaving her the job of ferreting out the two remaining fugitives. The one known as Banana had already been killed, hung at the gallows for crimes against the state. She intended that his two brothers should be punished too. always assuming they were found guilty in a impartial court. Which she knew they would be. But now, having tracked them to the inn and to the secret tunnels below, she did not know where they had gone. "I'm not sure, Captain," one of her swordsmen answered, "they had too much of a head start." Rakasha peered down the branching tunnel, looking for any sign that would give her a clue. Looking back at the force of soldiers behind her, she decided that, even divided, it would be more than enough to handle the two scoundrels. "We'll have to split up," she announced. "You five, go that way. The rest of you, you're with me. Whatever you do, don't get lost down here." Her torch in one hand and her sword in the other, Rakasha headed down the tunnel she had selected, moving at a pace just short of a run. She noted, as she went, that the rock they were traveling through had changed. It was now good granite which, she imagined, would be ideal to use in building a castle. To bad none of the Northern Warriors were trained in quarrying. They would really have to find someone they could recruit. Just then, she heard noises ahead, and came to a quick stop. Raising one hand, she signaled her men to be silent. Then, cautiously, she advanced around the bend in the tunnel, her sword at the ready. There, working with picks and shovels, was a small group of short, bearded men. Upon seeing her, they abandoned their labors and cowered back, brandishing their tools before them. "It's okay," Rakasha said, lowering her sword. "We won't hurt you. Who are you?" "We are Dwarves of the clan Ironhelm," one with an enormous red nose said. "I bring you greetings from the Lord Falken," Rakasha said, sensing that her master might find these dwarves valuable allies. She had already noticed that they appeared adept at working the stone. "What manner of work are you doing?" We are searching for True Silver," the red-nosed dwarf, who appeared to be their leader, replied. "We search for it wherever we go." "Mithril?" Rakasha asked, "is there mithril in this mountain?" She was suddenly excited, envisioning the wonderful armor the Brotherhood's armorer could make from the precious metal. "Alas, we have found none," the dwarf replied. "But we shall continue to search." "What do you do with all the stone you remove?" the Captain asked, seeing the possibility for a bargain. "We do nothing with it, we have no use for stone," the dwarf replied. "What is stone worth? We are surrounded by it all the time." "It's worth something to us," Rakasha answered. "I'm prepared to offer each of you fifty pieces of silver right now, plus ten more apiece every month, if you'll work with us, and provide us with the stone you remove." The dwarf suddenly looked very excited. "That is a deal I cannot refuse," he said, smiling. "We shall be very happy to supply you with stone." "And we," Rakasha said, thinking of the mighty castles they would build, "will be very happy to have it." She had not found the criminals they pursued, but she thought her Lord would be happy with what she had accomplished. ######################################################################## ATLANTIS ECONOMICS PART 12 will not appear this week. 281 armed men have shown up at my headquarters, so I hope you will understand my suspension of the series, should peace ever return to our once happy island I will resume. Due to the magnitude of the disaster I am facing, there is no way I will be able to complete a single ship before the cold steel of swords is upon my shipwrights throats. I will however start a new series on the War of the Ballandine Aggression and continue to report as long as I am able.. War of Ballandine Aggression, Report from the front #1 Dateline Lorthalm August Year 2 281 armed men from the Ballandine Alliance have arrived at my headquarters. Almost all are armed with swords. I have 299 men, most of whom are armed with swords, but I was not anticipating being the victim of aggression. Some of my new recruits are unarmed (and my weaponsmiths have more swords tham they can use). Much more troubling is the fact that my wizards are studying far away, as is my best tactician. The three factions attacking (Lame Duck Enterprises, Sir Aubec, and Paladins of Ballandine), will probably get the first strike and will have lots of wizards. The only question is how many survivors I will have. I will break after 150 deaths, they will then get a free shot, which may kill another 75-100 men. I will be lucky to have more than 50 survivors. The Ballandines will capture half my dead men's swords, making things very grim indeed. The only good news is that my army should inflict a casualty (I am hoping for 50- 75), which will prevent them from moving this turn. The three members of the Ballandines have all responded to my accusations of aggression. One claimed it was due to my probing them ( ignoring the fact that they had probed Lorthalm 4 times before I counter probed). Another claimed that it was due to my conflict with the Nolle alliance over Victoria mountain (ignoring the fact that we have agreed to share it equally). The Paladins of Ballandine, put my destruction most honestly, "This is a game of military conquest, there is no incentive to leave anybody else alive, so you are going to die"[paraphrased]. I salute their honesty, perhaps they will bury my faction in honorable graves. Next week: A report on the battle of Lorthalm. The above report generated by the scribes of faction 59, "Larson's Adventurers", formed in Gurkacre (9,14) on Jan 01 reachable at "Bill_Larson@ncsu.edu" ######################################################################## Memoirs of a not so lonely scout part V Hi all you faithful readers, since last time alot has happend. War has broken out on the continent. The once great Empire of Padisha and his Vassal The House of Diamante trembles under the repeated aggression from The Skinflayers, Order of the Octagonal Pit plus their allies. Rumours tell that the heir to the late Emperor Shadam even thinks of leaving the continent and that he builds vessels to bring him and his closest followers to a more peaceful place. Well wonder if these rumours are true. I have been thinking of visiting Mizip to see what is happening there with my own eyes. I have bid my apprentice farewell. I really hope that he can entertain the poor inhabitants in Sleedmer as I have been doing now the last months. Wonder if I get to see the now famous Dr VOX in Mizip. If I do I hope that he has found enough skin for his obscure hobby. Well thats all for this time readers of the Times. ######################################################################## The Colonel studied the observation screen, preparing to give the order that would take his troops into what would probably be their last battle. This new weapon which had been developed by the enemy had apparently already destroyed 3 other empires along their northern frontiers. 'Just a few more seconds' he thought. "Major Zachari!" he snapped, "Order the launch of the strike force". Suddenly a huge shadow loomed over the ship. Looking at the screen, the Colonel saw a ship at least 50 times larger than anything he'd ever seen before. A blue glare shone from the other ship at them. As his thoughts faded into darkness, the Colonel's thoughts were of beign unable to die in honourable combat. As he came to, the Colonel realized that he wasn't in heaven or hell, and was in fact apparently alive and well for some strange reason. He surveyed his surroundings. "Major Zachari!" "Sir!" affirmed the Major snapping to attention with a crisp salute. "Get me a status report on the men, and send out some scouts." A few days later, information started filtering back. They were in a strange place called Uxelburg, and there were no signs of advanced technology anywhere around. The Colonel realized this would mean having to learn new skills. He sighed as he realized the enormity of his task. 'No matter what it takes, someday we'll find a way back' he thought 'someday.....'. In the meantime his attention turned to the mountains he could see in the distance. Yes, steel would serve as a useful tool, perhaps we can manage more than just survival here after all. ######################################################################## =-=-= END TIMES 209 =-=-= ######################################################################## Up