OGame love story contest

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  • "my love story", or just "story"

    A long time ago, at the beginning of Universe...as i remember well it was 1st universe on ogame.ru community. I do not even know how to start, I could tell you that where reality blends with the unreal, where the impossible becomes possible ... a dream is born. The dream is born of nothing and becomes everything - it becomes a small universe in which you can be everything you want to be, in which your desires get shape and color, where reality only means your perspective on things.
    Too many dreams in just one Universe, but as i know every dream has the right of life, somebody's dream was to beacome a leader, other's to become the most powerfull player...it was beginning of Universe, and ....like in all beginnings, there were no friendship, honour, respect or even bravery between players...day by day, week by week, month by month dreams were coming true, friendship/hostile relations have been appeared. At that stage the time spent on the dream really counted, someone was a miner, someone was a fleeter...time was running out, but two of dreams were in the rankings, they were in different alliances, but every week they were changing 1st place between them.... both of them demonstrating a formidable skill in retrieving returns(an exceptional skill for that time).
    After a time, somebody decided to make an unofficial meeting outside of their Universe and surprise: they meet each other... i mean 1st and second dream - it was a love at first sight.
    As i remember they start to communicate, to meet frequently...they even changed their nicknames Leon and Matilda...until they made a family(their dreams became true finally)....

  • There was silence on the flight deck as the news hit home. Ambushed... 100% casualties. Everything gone in a split second - vaporised into floating debris.

    “Why aren't I dead?” Said the newest member of the crew who had just graduated top of his class at the Flight Academy and joined what he had thought was the number one posting on the number one ship being flown by the number one ranked pilot in the Fleet.

    “You smell dead, tho it could be the new lining in your underpants.” Said the pilot.” You jumped faster than your shit did when the trap slammed shut.”

    “I don't understand”, said the new guy, “I graduated top of my class at the Flight Academy and they told me my reward was the join the number one ship in the fleet flown by the number one ranked pilot in the Fleet.”

    “That is why you aren't dead” said the copilot, “you are in the number one ship in the fleet that is being flown by the number one ranked pilot in the Fleet.”

    “I don't understand”, said the new guy, noticing, perhaps, for the first time how faded and frayed their uniforms were. “Unless.... unless this is all an elaborate practical joke or I am still at the academy and this is a final test in the simulator, to see how I would react in actual battle conditions.”

    “Lucky for you this isn't a final test before graduation, you got a shit score AND the Fighting Fleet got wiped cleaner than a babies bottom.” said the frayed and faded one sitting in the chair with the words ShoT GuN written on the back of it.

    “The Straw Boat”, said the faded and frayed one sitting the in chair with a Big Old Number One carved into it, “has been filled with arrows.”

    “What boats? What is straw? What are arrows? What dafuq are you geriatrics talking about? Why aren't I dead and why are you both smiling?” Said the new guy, totally perplexed.

    “Don't they teach History at the Academy?” came the words from the ShoT Gun seat.

    “They teach us how to MAKE history, how to fly in the future, how to spot an off line target and how to simulate for maximum profit and minimum losses.” said the new guy.

    “How to steal candy from sleeping babies you mean.” said the frayed and faded one in the ShoT GuN seat.

    Stop with the baby talk, I am not a baby and I resent your insinuations that I am a baby, it's not my fault that I was born after you pair of fossils, you are has beens, I can tell by the way you are dressed. I graduated top of my class in the Academy and I demand that you respect that. I was born to be a fleeter, born to pwn the universe.”

    “Has beens once were and some fossils used to be Dinosaurs with great big teeth.” said the frayed and faded one in the ShoT GuN seat. “and bleeched out old has beens like me and him know what we are going to be when we grow up because, unlike you, we have already grown up. I have been your age and you have not been mine, I tell you this so that you will know that I know that the young think getting old is easy and all it takes is time and that there is plenty of that, but I gotta tell ya. Getting old ain't for the squeamish or the faint hearted.”

    “Back in the day when I was at the academy,” said the faded and frayed one sitting the in chair with a Big Old Number One carved on it, “they didn't teach much history either. Sure, they gave us all a copy of the Art of War like they probably still do, thing was I had to spend more than just a little bit of time googling before I heard the tale of zhugeliang and how to gather arrows with straw boats.”

    “What’s with the straw boats talk again? What dafuq are you on about old man? You talk in circles and make no sense.” said the now exceptionally indignant new guy.

    The faded and frayed one sitting the in chair with a Big Old Number One carved on it, opened up what was once upon a time called a book and read out. “Zhuge Liang prepared 20 large boats, each manned by a few soldiers and filled with human-like figures made of straw and hay. In the hours before dawn, when there is a great fog, Zhuge Liang deploys the boats and sails towards chao's camp across the river. He orders the sailors to beat war drums loudly and shout orders to imitate the sounds of an attack. Upon hearing the noises, chao's troops rush out to engage the enemy but they are unsure of the enemy force's size because their vision is obscured by the fog. They fire volleys of arrows in the direction of the noises and the arrows become stuck in the straw figures. In the meantime, Zhuge Liang enjoys drinks with Sho Tgn inside the cabin and they sail back when the fog clears. By the time they return to base, Zhuge Liang has acquired more than 100,000 arrows. Which, back in the day was zHUGE, because it took lots of men with lots of skill to make an arrow and also it took time, lots and lots of time.” concluded the faded and frayed one sitting the in chair with a Big Old Number One carved on it.

    The book from which he was quoting from had a rather battered and scorched leather bound cover and looked very much like it had been smashed with rocks, chewed by a dinosaur, battered with bones, then scorgched by a rapid firing plasma turret and finally, dipped in a bucket of old blood. There were blood stained torn pages with bits missing and every single page was dog eared and covered in marginalia. Marginalia like "There is NO SUCH THING as too many recyclers".

    “What in the universe is that thing?” said the new guy looking at the very first hand written note book he had ever seen.

    “It's a love story” said the voice from the ShoT-GuN seat, “He's been writing in that book ever since he strapped himself into the first light fighter he ever built.”

    “How can it be a love story if the cover looks like it's been smashed with rocks, chewed by a dinosaur, battered with bones, then scorgched by a rapid firing plasma turret and finally, dipped in a bucket of old blood and all the pages inside are full of bullet holes and blood stains?”

    “It is a book of full of love, young man, of friendships forged by shared hardships, it speaks of strategies and ideals, but mostly it speaks of the love of competing for the spirit of competition, not for fame, not for glory, not to make a profit, not to make a point, purely to play the game as the game was designed to be played, as a very subtle mechanism to teach young guns the value of discipline and forward planning.” said the woman in the ShoT GuN seat as she shook her long silver and golden braids of lustrous hair out from underneath her hat.

    “How long have you been a woman for?' asked the new guy rather stupidly.

    “Ever since I was born.” she replied, “If I was a man I would have a beard like the gentleman over there in the chair with a Big Old Number One carved on it and I would add, if your father doesn't have a beard, he is your mother, she continued.

    “I don't have a beard.” said the new guy.

    “Don't worry son, you will grow one in no time, ain't no bathroom inside a light fighter and the light fighter you have been assigned to is right thru that air lock and as you strap in remember that you are flying the only light fighter we have, everything else was wiped out.” said the gentleman in the chair with a Big Old Number One carved on it.

    “LF 000000001 to R 000000001 - - - Do you read me?” crackled the loudspeaker on the flight deck.

    “Go ahead LF 000000001.”

    “Suddenly this posting DEFINITELY doesn't seem like a reward” said the loud speaker on the flight deck of R 000000001, “What chance do I have out there in a universe full of bombastic BattleCruisers and destructive Destroyers and look at this old thing. Made in ShipYard 2 ! You have got to be kidding me, this thing belongs in a museum, I am not trusting my life to this thing, it's a DEATH TRAP.”

    “If it were a death trap, it would have been in the trap that wiped the fleet and filled the recyclers.” Pointed out R 000000001 over the intercom

    A light came on in the cockpit of LF 000000001 and it wasn't electric, it was inside the brain of the new guy and the cockpit of LF 000000001 was transformed as he realised that whilst the cockpit of LF 000000001 was somewhat dishevelled, it definitely had the look about it like it had been there and done that and made it back time after time. He realised that life is a journey and that its more about survival than anything else, and perhaps most importantly he realised that quality in all things ought be the object of desire as he realised that the robots in the shipyard 2 had been able to spend minutes making a classic Light Fighter rather than fractions of a second churning out a flimsy. He could see the universelike Neo in the Matrix.

    “LF 000000001 to R 000000001 - - - Do you read me?” crackled the loudspeaker on the flight deck for possibly the last time.

    “Go ahead LF 000000001.”

    “Why were you both smiling when the fleet got destroyed?” crackled the loudspeaker on the flight deck for almost the last time.

    “When the keel of every battle ship is laid it is known to all involved that one day a Peril Point will be reached and from the day the ship is launched, every decision by it's captain and every course plotted by it's navigator brings it closer and closer to Peril Point, that perilous point at which, no matter which way the ship turns, it is into enemy fire.”

    “LF 000000001 to R 000000001 - - - Understood, but why smile?” crackled the loudspeaker on the flight deck for possibly the last time.

    “We have long had more than enough recyclers to recycle our entire fleet of fighting ships and a large chunk of theirs.” came the first half of the reply.

    “And the fighting ships was all flimseys flown by robots, not humans.” came the second half of the reply and then there was a loud CLICK and the speakers twinkled in back to life with what sounded exactly like the third and most famous movement of Debussy's 1890 Suite, the Claire de Lune....

    Said the gentleman to his lady.. “I sure do love this hot tub, much better upgrade for a Recycler than hyper drive 15 or combustion 20.”

    “You are not worng there.” she sighed, as he massaged her feet.

    “Its more about timing than it is about speed.” he said gently, as he started massaging her root chakra.

    “Mmmmmm” she said, “Who needs flowers and chocolates on Valentines Day when they can have multiple orgasms, how about we do that thing with the numbers next, it goes so well with the music.”

    And the water in the hot tub started to undulate with exquisite precision: 11 shallow 1 deep, 10 shallow 2 deep, 9 shallow 3 deep, 8 shallow 4 deep, 7 shallow 5 deep, 6 shallow 6 deep, 5 shallow 7 deep, 4 shallow 8 deep, 3 shallow 9 deep, 2 shallow 10 deep, 1 shallow 11 deep, repeat and repeat.
    "we are all targets ALL the time"
    OldMate [GLoTR]

  • There need to be three stories for three prizes :)


    It was day again. Even though the dark that filled the empty void of the outer universe would suggest otherwise, the clock had struck six. Ermion sat up in his bed, staring in the vast outside. More than a million large cargo’s, supported by destroyers and deathstar surrounded the deathstar he was on. “Morning shift rise!” a man shouted through the hallway followed by a pounding on the metal frame of the door. An awful sound thundered through the room, painful enough to make the windowpanes dance. Ermion stepped out of his bed, shook his head and stretched every single muscle of his body. Good day, he thought. Good day again.

    Not even fifteen minutes later, Ermion sat in his worker-uniform in the breakfast hall at his designated table. “Ha you seen that girl in the aviation quadrant? Wou do her in a heartbeat… you kno… if I hadn’t had the wi and kid at home.” The man who had invited himself next to Ermion was Aldor. One of the many who Ermion didn’t like, but had to play pretend nice to. Honor code and all. Decent Bullcrap. “Wha abou you then Erm?” Aldor said in his sluggish style of not finishing words.

    “I guess so. Bloody shit we’re eating again, ain’t it.” Ermion nodded at his plate. “Pri of bein’ a worka heh,” Aldor laughed foolishly. Ermion looked over to the girl in the aviation quadrant – six classes higher than his. She was eating a handmade croissant, filled with bottle stored plumb jam. She smiled, delightfully. “You eatin that or no? Aldor asked. Ermion slid his mushy mess on his plate (cosisting of oatmeal, undercooked eggs and buttermilk) to Aldor. “Have at it. I’m getting some apples, you want some?” Aldor nodded, with his mouth already filled with the mush. “Two,” he spat out as Ermion walked of.

    “Four or higher,” a man – the one who had sat opposite of the aviation girl – said with a strict notion. “W-what,” Ermion stuttered. “Restricted fixed ration. On the order of the high counsil of admirals. Sunstorms drifted us a week of course. Can’t spoil the good foods on people like you.” “Leave him be, Nolan,” the stunning girl said. “He is just fooling you. Don’t mind him.” Ermion was perplexed. “But one a man, boy. You have been taking more.” He was right. “I have been watching you.” “Just let him go, nobody cares about the damn apples.” She took one of the apples and handed it to Ermion. “Here, have mine.” Her hand touched his while she put the apple in Ermions hand, and he just stood there and smiled.

    “So you talkin wit ‘er eh,” Aldor said. “You were right at ya dreams wit ‘er. Guess so… bullocks,” he laughed.


    “Did it taste good?” A sudden voiced sounded behind Ermion. His hands were greasy and his body was covered in sweat. Het turned around and saw her again. Days had passed since that moment in the breakfast hall. “Great,” Ermion said joyfully. “Your name is Ermion, right? You were hard to find.” “Bloody nightshift,” Ermion said closely followed by a grin from the girl. “You were looking for me?” he asked. “And now I have found you,” the girl giggled. I’m Amelie, I didn’t know if you’d still remember me from the breakfast hall when I gave you the apple. Of course I remember you, Ermion though. And true that was, since he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Amelie her name was. Beautiful.


    “Still don understand why you takin’ interes in lil’ apple boy,” Aldor said. Amelie was sitting at their table, which attracted quite a lot of eyes, as it was highly unusual to mix classes. “But now you here, gotta ask ya. Why dah it take so long. Are we shippin’ the high queen to namanland eh?” Amelie laughed, in a way only she could. “Think more valuable and even further away,” she told Aldor. He smiled, but had no idea what she meant. “Are you ready Ermion,” she asked. “Let’s look at the stars.”

    Her cabin was at the other side of the ship. “With less cargo’s to disturb the view,” she had said. Amelie had invited Ermion, and of course he had accepted. “Wonderful,’ he said while looking outside of her window. Lies, he though. There were still millions of cargo’s as far as the eye could see. Maybe a little less than he would have normally seen. “What’s that one over there. Doesn’t really look like ours does it.” Ermion said with a raised panic in his voice. Amelie looked over. “That can’t be. How?” she muttered.

    Not even a second later the first cargo’s on the outer ring went up in flames. Soon followed by the destroyers and battlecruisers. It was an attack. They had tracked the admirals fleet. Bits and pieces of metal were flying around as ships of both sides got destroyed in the battle. Thunder sounded through the empty silent and soundless void. Ermion and Amelie could do nothing, freezed and shocked as they watched their ships burn, closed their eyes and fell into each other’s arms. For half an hour they sat there silently and then Ermion kissed the top of Amelia’s head. “We’re safe,” he said as the pirates’ ships took off with its loot, “it’s over.” It was February 14th. The day the most precious things were lost, and found.
  • OGame love story contest poll

    What was your favourite OGame love story? 11
      Treinrek (4) 36%
      Big-BonG (4) 36%
      Terror_ (3) 27%
    You can vote here for OGame love story contest
    The options are the following:

    1. OGame love story contest by Terror_

    2. OGame love story contest by Big-BonG

    3. OGame love story contest by Treinrek

    You can give one vote only.

    "Let me be clear as I can be: In politics and in life, ignorance is not a virtue. It's not cool to not know what you're talking about."

    The post was edited 1 time, last by NoMoreAngel ().