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Thursday, April 03, 2003
Yap: Red alert
By Januar E. Yap
Meanwhile
A Cousin’s 5-year-old son came for visit, inspiring a kind of panic in a household that hadn’t seen kids for quite a long time. He walked into the room where I had just turned on the computer. He took a chair and sat silently beside me. I didn’t know why, but it must’ve been the season that, quite instinctively, I fed the Red Alert disc into the drive and set the speakers in full volume.
Red Alert is a war-game where one mines ore as a resource, builds up a stronghold, produces an army and arsenal enough to overwhelm the enemy.
You can choose the intensity of the skirmish by registering an enemy under the category of “brutal.” In this occasion, I fought as Libya and chose the United States, Iraq, and North Korea as “brutal” enemies.
Libya produces a demolition truck that self-destructs when attacked, sending a strong nuclear explosion that wipes out enemy infantry, arsenal, and structures around it. The US and Korea are famous for its air force, and Iraq practically has the same weapons as Libya.
With enough resources, I built up a nuclear reactor, produced 20 or so demolition trucks, about 30 apocalypse tanks, and with a cloning vat, produced about 60 flak troopers to combat any air attack. I sent a queue of five demolition trucks to the US camp, clearing its defenses, and struck its breadbasket with fierce fire from five apocalypse tanks.
At this point, the little kid watches the spectacle with mouth agape as the sub-woofer spewed out baffling explosions.
I used the same shock and awe tactic on Korea, severely clearing out its potentially disastrous air power, and a deluge of 20 apocalypse tanks had crushed the barracks into ashes. The final clash will be with Iraq. By this time, it had already sent three Kierov airship bombers into my camp, sending my army of flak troopers into intense defense.
Two of the bombers fell right before entering my camp. The other had acutely damaged the barracks. It fell right at the throng of troopers, killing instantly about 20 or so of them.
In retaliation, I left the camp without defense infantry, and sent everyone into a D-Day on Iraqi camp. Ten demolition trucks had so awed the Republican guards that my tanks were left with only a few residual structures to demolish. “You are victorious!” said the computer.
I checked on Little Comrade beside me, but already he was fast asleep in his chair. The anti-war hero was dreaming of a better place.
(April 3, 2003 issue)
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