Tag Archives: paintball

camping is a sin

This weekend, we did Thanksgiving up in Farmington with Penny’s family. Well, on Thursday and Saturday mornings, the men-folk (well those 16+) ran out into the desert to shoot each other with paintballs. I was headaching on Thurs, so didn’t get a chance to play. But I was fine for the carnage on Saturday.

We played some pretty standard games. Half of the group runs off into the bushes to hide and the other half attacks. Then you switch sides. Get hit with a shot that breaks, you’re out.

The terrain was brutal (rocky desert hills around a sandy wash). My legs and back are still killing me from the experience. It’s actually hurting to sit upright in my chair here. Feh. I’m not quite 30 yet and already I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. 😛

I came out of the game mostly unscathed. Sure, I got hit a few times. But the only time that left a mark was when some loser (who shall remain nameless) cheated.

[flashback special effects go here]

It was the third game. We were on the offensive. The other team had been given plenty of time to get into position on their half of the field. We let them know that we were on our way.

To paraphrase Penny’s uncle Rick as we walked over to the wash from where we were parked: “You know… Jimmy and [whatsisface] were pretty mad about how we beat them last time. They’re probably gonna be hiding pretty close to the entrance. Hey, Ammon? Come stand in front of me :P”

At this moment, he who shall remain nameless (because I never bothered to catch his name) popped up from a bush behind us and opened fire. The distance was probably 20 feet from him to the furthest guy in our group. I was in the back of the group, so I was closest to him when the ambush happened – probably more like 10-12 feet away.

He started with the far side and worked his way back to me. About the time he was shooting the third guy on my team of five, I had realized what was happening and had turned and raised my gun.

I fired two shots. The first one missed. The second one glanced off of the side of his mask. By then, he was ending his first sweep and hit me. In the chest, just under my left arm. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit that hard with a paintball before (enter my suspicions of heightened pressure settings…).

Anyhow, the shot hit me so hard, I actually staggered backwards, lost my footing, and landed on my back. I’m pretty sure I made appropriate noises of groaning and injury. I don’t remember what happened after that, I was too busy running a systems check to see where all he’d hit me and was kind of surprised to find that it’d only been once.

By the time the dust settled, he’d run off and we were regrouping to figure out what to do next. We decided to play the round as normal.

I only got one kill that round. It was the camper. I shot him in the face at about 15 yards.

[end flashback, fade to present]

So… karma, yeah. We won that round, and the one after it.

In retrospect, I realized something interesting about myself. Every hit I scored that day (there were not very many) was a head shot. Shrug.

PvP - May 28, 2001

happy christmas

Christmas went well. We drove down to Thatcher on the evening of the 22nd and just got back around midnight twenty last night. Loot was pretty standard fare of clothing and candy bars. Outstanding toys included a flour mill from my in-laws (and 5 #10 cans of wheat to grind) and an old (1978) Farewell Space Battleship Yamato (さらば宇宙戦艦ヤマト 愛の戦士たち) artbook. For a 27-year-old picture book, it’s in remarkable condition.

I am sore beyond reason after yesterday’s festivities. Penny’s father (Kirk) has been wooed by the siren call of the paintball gun (his best friend is something of a junkie for that sort of thing). I was somehow caught up in all of this and got to spend the majority of yesterday afternoon running around in a sandy river bottom getting shot at by people in entirely better shape than me. Most notable injuries include an almost point-blank shot to my left shoulder (golf ball sized bruise) and a series of three shots to the back of the head by some dufus who didn’t hear time out called (one kid twisted his ankle and we were seeing if he was ok). But mostly, I’m just sore from using muscles I’ve not used in a while – I’ve not done any sort of good simulated combat in about 10 years.

Oh, that and Danny (brother-in-law, ArbyFish person) almost killed everyone with his attempt at building a model rocket. Kirk had an evil idea for uses of their leftover wrapping paper tubes… we spent most of the time leading up to Christmas in figuring out how to launch the things. Eventually a standard design was settled on:

  • Cardboard tube from wrapping paper for body
  • Hard styrofoam ball for nose
  • Cardboard fins glued on tangentially to the tube for stabilization and stuff
  • Pipe insulation to hold the motor in place
  • Motors of size C through E, because overkill is not enough

Our first successful launch was interesting in that it ejected the foam insulation and motor out the back two seconds after the engine cut off – leaving a sulphurous crater in the neighboring cotton field. Our funniest launch (with the exception of Danny’s) was tantamount to a declaration of war on our neighbors (the Bishop) as rocket bits rained down on his house.

Danny… built a little rocket (10″ long or so) and named it Gimpy. He put three huge fins on it and tried to attach them perpendicular to the tube in stead of tangentially. He stuffed an E9 in the back. Upon ignition, the rocket got about 6 feet off of the ground before one of the fins was torn off, at which point, the thing began spinning in loops. The overall flight path took it barely over the house and dove it into the ground on the other side. There was much fear that one of its revolutions would take it in the direction of the spectators. Once catastrophe was acknowledged as averted, there was much hilarity and rejoicing.