Thread: Civilization V
View Single Post
Old 29-06-2012, 12:01 PM
SE5eagle's Avatar
SE5eagle SE5eagle is offline
Pure Codology
Join Date: Mar 2004
Location: On The Fritz
Age: 40
Posts: 6,087
Rep Power: 21474851
SE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is hereSE5eagle Sam the man is here
Oh Jebus...

Civlization V Gods & Kings DLC has been released and nudges this game into the 'oh dear I'm going to f'k up my real actual life, career, all nascent creative endeavours & familial responsibilities' levels of brilliance.

Have fallen deeply in love with the game again; it's just incredible.

Includes religion and new playable civs. Have been banging it from the opening credits of Newsnight til stupid o'clock in the morning over the last few days.

My Hindu Celts were bumbling around a peaceful utopia, building universities, temples and Wonders, tickling the fairies in the woods -Celts need the woods in the game, keeps 'em in the sweet spot and is useful for cultivating those all important mushrooms- and becoming besties with the city-state of Tyre. Then at about 1am this morning -on my my seventy-third 'one last turn' of the session- that motherfudger, Montezuma, turns up on the outskirts of Dublin with all of his mental Aztecs and feathers and sh't fronting up to take my ends. Proper BC style, old school; headed for borstal after steaming a William Hill. The unmitigated, illiterate, tube.

Having previously spent all our dosh in Poundland on twee Celtic Twilight light-fittings, 'magical' turnips and stupid stuff like schools universities -I was haphazardly and belatedly trying to produce an army to repel the legions at my gates.

Enter TOTAL WAR, eyeball to eyeball:

-Dudes getting fudged up right, left & centre in the jungle
-My tinkers, in the quest to militarise, on the brink of bankruptcy; it turns out that 'magical' turnips are highly flammable and nothing to write home about in the theatre of war...
-Tyre turning out to be no fudging use whatsoever in a knuckle; the arseholes!
-The revelation that my neighbours, the Arabs, the Indians, the Mayans and the Ethiopians, can do all the happy-clappy, Jesus in a pepperpot, Inbetweeners 'friends' bit in diplomacy, but will happily stand by whilst some wild-eyed psycho in a dress is trampling my truffles and waving knives, genitals and God-knows-what at my horrifed locals.

The upshot of this conflagration for me, dear eagles, was ghastly, red-eyed, hopeless desperation, interspersed with waves of -albeit turn based - momentous epiphanies. The sea foam always popped that inevitable question, delivered to myself with raised eyebrows: 'what the fudge is a father of two doing fretting about the fate of imaginary midgets, when he has to get up in four hours and secure the fate of two real ones... Seriously, cop on, what are you doing with your life?'

Then the levee broke.

Montezuma came to the realisation that unless you're Croatian, Spanish, Italian, or are even passably good at kicking an inflatable pig's bladder to someone wearing the same colour as you, then you'll never beat the fudging Irish.

Having entered into his own personal Vietnam War, having been unexpectedly (just) out-loonied in the bushes, with our civilisations on the brink of mutual annihilation, Montezuma sued for peace.

It was smashing.

In order to secure a ten year truce, he gave me all of his Aztec gold. By golly it was a lot. Almost felt sorry for the guy, not quite though. In truth I was immersed in the cool lake of relief, floating on my back, wiggling my toes, betwixt the undisturbed surface and the softening moonlight.

The cherry on the top was that his returning forces infected his populace with our Hinduism, boys oh boys are they doing a bit of soul searching now. As well they might. As well they might.

Managed to drag myself away just as the ten year truce drew to a close. Have spunked an enormous sum of crazy man's gold on more celestial root vegetables and on amassing an army of neds from Edinburgh.

Being a bit wiser now though, I have kept back just enough to install a government and build a giant statue of David Bowie in his capital. Because, my friends, having just reiterated to the largely disinterested world that Montezuma still a right knob, tonight I'm going to paint Tenochtitlan green.

Then I'll get back to the celery until some other clown tries it on...
"I'm a South London boy and this is my club."

Sir Clinton Morrison
Reply With Quote