Finished: 11 AM Tue 13 Feb 18 UTC
murica-15
1 day /phase
Pot: 50 D - Autumn, 2013, Finished
Fall of the American Empire IV, Draw-Size Scoring
1 excused missed turn
Game drawn
20 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2000: Hey Tex! Glad to see ya! Put er there!
20 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2000: If I could see your hands I would!
20 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2000: Hey Tex! Glad to see ya! Put er there!
20 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2000: Hey Tex! Glad to see ya! Put er there!
26 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2002: In my defense, I finished my last turn in less than a minute
26 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2002: are you playing anotehr game where you are alleis with BC?
26 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2002: Nope, I entered my orders frantically as it ticked over to the next turn, relying on my vague memory of what was happening
26 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2002: In other words, I’m just an idiot
26 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2002: fair enough
31 Dec 17 UTC Autumn, 2003: Mustve been a glitch
01 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2003: haha heartland has been defeated!
04 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2004: CUBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
04 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2004: ???
04 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2004: You landed in Massachusetts. He's angry about that.
05 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2005: Oh well
10 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2006: GameMaster: THICCNICK was banned: multi/meta/no reply. The time until the next phase has been extended by one phase length to give an opportunity to replace the player.
Remember to finalize your orders if you don't want to wait, so the game isn't held up unnecessarily!
10 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2006: Hello new New York here! Look forward to playing with you all
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: X-Men



By



Ed Solomon


Revisions:
Chris McQuarrie
Tom DeSanto
Bryan Singer





February 24, 1999
















BLACK

Sounds of a train rolling to a halt, a shrill whistle.

EXT. CAMP - DAY

UP ON the door of a weathered cattle car as a German
soldier steps into frame wearing that familiar gray of
the all-too familiar era.

He throws the door to reveal a mass of huddled and
frightened people inside.

The words are not necessary. The language is not ours
and the images say enough.

Men, women and children are herded off the train like
cattle toward a large open yard. There they huddle until
the Germans begin to shout and shove through the mob.

EXT. FENCE CORRIDOR - DAY

We are looking up at rows and rows of fences topped with
barbed wire all designed to create a separator for the
thousands of Jew who pour through each day.

Then we see the eyes themselves that look up at them.

A LITTLE BOY. A boy who will not die this day. A boy
who will live to see the end of the war and the world of
the future.

He stares at the metal wire with an unusual fascination.

The boy looks up at HIS WORRIED PARENTS - a sturdy-
looking couple who try to smile and comfort him.

The corridor comes to a junction where it splits in
several different directions.

Soldiers here push the mob using rifles as pikes,
screaming and terrorizing the lot of them. Suddenly it
is clear what they are doing. They are dividing the mob
into smaller groups.

Soon, the groups themselves become evident.

Men from women. Children from adults.

The family tries to stay together, clinging to one
another dearly, until finally, they are put upon by a
number of gray uniforms and pulled apart. The boy is
dragged screaming his feet no longer touching the ground.
Two soldiers carry him as they follow the back of a large
column of children being led through a gate of barbed
wire so dense, it resembles wool.

The gate closes and the boy looks back to see his parents
- along with many others - being restrained by a number
of soldiers. The screaming is deafening.

And the boy's can be heard above it all. The soldiers
seem to be having a hard time carrying such a frail
child. The farther they get from the fence, the heavier
he seems to get, until they are literally pulling him as
though he were anchored to something.

His outstretched fingers claw at the thin air and he
screams until the blood in his face is blue.

The soldiers are literally pulled back a step and they
begin to slip in the mud. They look at one another and
then over their shoulders as they hear a sound.

A groaning, creaking sound. And then the unmistakable
twang of wire stretched to snapping.

ANGLE ON:

The fence. The gate that separates the parents. It bows
toward them like iron filings to a magnet, and several of
the strands of barbed wire have given way.

The boy continues to scream as all the other faces simply
freeze and wonder.

One of the soldiers pulls a wooden baton from his belt
and brains the boy violently.

He slumps and the soldiers carrying him spring forward as
through a rope that was holding them back has been cut.
They nearly fall, looking at one another with some
concern, some confusion....

Then they follow the line of children that has gotten
ahead of them.

ANGLE ON:

The boy's parents watch him as he -- as they, are taken
away.

The rest of their story is as you would expect.

EXT. SKY - DAY

Bright, bright blue framing a blinding white sun.

PAN DOWN AGAIN TO REVEAL:

The cracked, drought-stricken soil of nowhere.

TITLES:

KENYA - 1978

A group of children at play. Tribal children who,
without the help of the titles, could be from any age.

They run through a tiny village of tents, playing. Every
child holds a long reed-like stick and they chase each
other playing their version of tag.

As each child is tapped, they chase the others. Each
trying to avoid being "it", though never going far enough
away to miss the fun.

One girl in particular. A PRETTY GIRL OF 12, with
unusual white hair, is tagged and immediately shunned.

She chases kids this way and that, but to no avail. She
is not strong enough, nor agile enough, to win.

She tumbles and lands on her stick, snapping it. She
stands and, when the children see that her stick is
broken, they begin to giggle.

The giggles become laughter and the laughter becomes a
taunt, and before we even realize, the inherent cruelty
of children let loose becomes evident.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: They have now formed a circle, at first avoiding her
touch with distance, but now growing tighter with menace.
In the unspoken manner of children at prey, the group
begins to chant in their native tongue - a song we have
not heard but sung in a way none-too inviting. They
begin to poke at her with the reeds, driving her back.

The girl now moves to the center of the circle, no longer
wishing to tag anyone.

ONE DEVIOUS CHILD seems to get an idea. He takes his
stick and smacks it across her shoulder. She turns to
face the child and another swings his stick across her
back with a solid THWACK. Before long, mob rule gives
way and all the kids are swinging at her and laughing.

It grows to the brink of frenzy, the laughing and the
shouting not too unlike the noise of the previous scene.

So much so, we may miss the first flake of snow. The
children certainly do. It is snowing for a good ten
seconds before the last of them stops.

By then, the snow is thick as flies and wafting down to
melt instantly on the hot African soil that has never
seen snow before.

ANGLE ON:

Adults come out of their huts and in from the fields and
the whole of the village is soon gathered around the
little girl, staring up from the clear blue sky and the
snow that falls from nowhere. From nothing.

One by one, all eyes fall on the little girl and the
looks of curiosity become looks of fear. Of
superstition.

Punctuated by a solid thump.

And then another.

AN OLD MAN looks down at his feet and sees a tiny,
misshapen ball of ice, no bigger than his eye. He looks
at it, bites it, then pops it in his mouth - breath
turning to steam.

Another such chunk of ice pops him on the head. THE
CROWD LAUGHS.

They look up again and see that mixed with the snow are
tiny pellets of hail, seeming to increase in number as
the snow mysteriously wanes.

And the pellets are getting larger. Until they land as
hunks.

The white haired girl drops to the ground and covers her
head as hailstones the size of baseballs plow into the
Earth.

Before long, tents are collapsing and panic ensues.

And all along the white haired girl sits huddled in the
dust, crying.

As hailstones fall in a circle around her, never coming
closer than then a few feet or so.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM - NIGHT

ONE MORE SKY. This one a backdrop. Cheap paint and
tissue paper hung with hooks on a wall just behind the
basket on a full court.

As we pull back, we see the skyline of New York, crudely
made out with its silhouette buildings of dark gray and
black - windows of yellow.

Among the famous landmarks represented is the Statue of
Liberty, complete with a real light bulb burning in the
torch.

We are at a prom. The theme is RHAPSODY IN BLUE and the
decor has made tragic efforts to show it. The
tablecloths are blue, the napkins are blue - far too many
of the tuxes are powder blue, and the blue eye shadow is
as heavy as expected.

Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" gives painful indication
of the era, but here it is, nonetheless:

SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA - 1986

MOVE ACROSS THE FLOOR and through the swaying, clutching,
sweating dancers to the bathroom.

Through the door to the usual -

INT. BOYS BATHROOM - NIGHT

Several boys are here, bow ties undone - unclipped in
most cases. Smoking, drinking from whatever inventive
container was used to smuggle in booze. Breath freshener
and Visine are the chaser.

Some of the guys are rolling joints while others make the
sad effort to wave smoke away. Who are they kidding?
It's a fog in here.

MOVE DOWN THE ROW OF TOILET STALLS to one in particular.
Here we find A FRECKLED KID standing in front of mirror,
clearly holding himself up from the effect of God knows
what.

He talks to his friend in the he stall behind him.

FRECKLED KID
Man, what's the matter with you?

His friend is on the toilet with his head in his hands.
He seems to be in some pain. He is SCOTT SUMMERS - AGE
17.

FRECKLED KID (contíd)
Dude. Lighten up. She's just a girl.
You just gotta-

SCOTT
No, my eyes... my eyes are killing me.

The Freckled kid offers a small plastic bottle.

FRECKLED KID
You want some Visine, man?

SCOTT
My... eyes...

The freckled kid looks and sees that Scott's eyes are
watering so badly that tears are literally streaming
through his fingers.

He goes back to the mirror to look at his own.

SCOTT
... they're burning...

The freckled kid turns back to him.

FRECKLED KID
Dude, how much did you smoke?

SCOTT
I didn't smoke anything.

Scott looks up, taking his hands away, revealing for an
instant that his eyes are merely bright red embers in his
head. Featureless but for the color.

Freckles takes a step back.

INT. GYM - OUTSIDE BOYS ROOM - NIGHT

A blinding flash of light shows through the frosted glass
in the double door and cuts through the crack into the
dark of the gym.

All who see it are stunned. Frozen. A lingering moment
of confusion, then:

BOOM, the doors to the Boys Room burst open and the
occupants scatter into the gym.

INT. GYM - STALL - NIGHT

Freckles is still there, legs locked.

FRECKLES' P.O.V.

He looks at Scott who is now crying meekly in the stall,
covering his eyes again -- afraid to open them.

The door of the stall across from him swings closed TO
REVEAL:

A HOLE, PUNCHED THROUGH THE STALL DOOR framing Scott's
face perfectly. Pull back to reveal that the hole
continues through the wall, into the girl's bathroom next
door.

In the corner several girls huddle together, they are
afraid.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: INT. SENATE HEARING ROOM - DAY

Packed with reporters and photographers. There's a dais -
a raised panel of senators - and a second, lower panel.
This is where the "experts" are testifying.

Panning across the faces of several G.O.P. creeps as they
watch something with varying degrees of interest.

TITLES:

WASHINGTON D.C. - THE NOT TOO DISTANT FUTURE

A woman's voice holds over the proceedings. It is the
voice of JEAN GREY - whom we will soon meet.

As she is speaking, we come to a large screen television
at one end of the room.

JEAN (O.S.)
In every organism on Earth there
exists a mutator gene - the X-factor,
as it has come to be known. It is the
basic building block of evolution -
the reason we have evolved from homo
habilus...

FOOTAGE REFLECTS THE VARIOUS STAGES OF HUMAN EVOLUTION.
Accompanying it is a GRAPH with a DIAGONAL LINE
indicating the ascent of the "human being" as we know it.
Accompanying the graph are evolving images of the
"evolution of man."

JEAN (O.S.) (contíd)
... to homo erectus, to homo sapiens
Neanderthals, and, finally, to homo
sapiens.

The animated demo on the screen zooms in on the lowest
order of human depicted - homo habilus - a primitive, ape-
like humanoid covered in hair. As he is singled out, the
terrain of his time appears, along with the harsh signs
of his winter.

JEAN (O.S.) (contíd)
Taking it's cues from the climate,
terrain, various sources of
nourishment, the mutator gene tells
the body when it needs to change to
adapt to a new environment. The
process is subtle, normally taking
thousands of years.

As the graphic changes and depicts WARMER CLIMATE, the
HAIR STARTS TO DISAPPEAR ON THE MAN'S BODY - gradually
evolving into the human we now know as ourselves.

Now the terrain is modern, the weather pleasant. The
image pulls back and places this man back in line at the
front of evolution.

JEAN (O.S.) (contíd)
Only in the last few thousand years
did mankind begin to make clothes for
himself, build shelters, use heat and
grow food in large quantities. With
this man-made environment remaining
relatively stable, the X-factor became
dormant.

QUICK SHOTS: early huts, early clothing; then early
homes, later homes, air conditioning, cars, modern high-
rises, etc.

PULL BACK WIDER

JEAN (O.S.) (contíd)
Until now.

On the room, the reactions, and on JEAN herself.

A strong, attractive woman in her early 30's. A simple
placard before her:

JEAN GREY. GENETICALLY ENHANCED RIGHTS ASSOCIATION.

The screen shows the words "PRESENT DAY," where the
"evolution line" has resumed its rise.

JEAN (contíd)
For reasons still not known to us, we
are seeing what some are calling the
beginnings of another stage of
evolution -

A MICROPHONED VOICE interrupts. Bearing down is the
flamboyant SENATOR SCOTT "FRANK" KELLY, a conservative
from Florida, and the hearing's Chairman.

Just behind him sits his aide HENRY GUYRICH - mid 30's,
typical government cog.

KELLY
You're avoiding the question I posed
to you at the beginning of the
hearing, Ms. Grey. Three words: Are
mutants dangerous?

JEAN
I am avoiding a question that is
decidedly loaded, Senator. The wrong
person behind the wheel of a car can
be dangerous.

Another SENATOR (LUCINDA ROWEE) speaks into her
microphone:

SENATOR ROWEE
Well, we do license people to drive.

JEAN
But not to live.

Kelly raises a hand, continuing his tirade.

KELLY
Ms. Grey -- you work at a school for
mutants in Westchester, New York. Can
you tell the members of this committee
what exactly you are teaching these
mutants?

JEAN
Math. History. Science. English.
Athletics --

KELLY
You wouldn't happen to be teaching
them how to use their powers to --

JEAN
Control, Senator... we teach them
control.

Kelly raises a blown-up photograph: a grainy, super-
zoomed, somewhat obscured image of a CAR ON A FREEWAY
which appears to have "melted." Now he's really playing
to the crowd.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: KELLY
This was taken by a state police
officer in Secaucus, New Jersey. A
man in a minor altercation literally
melted the car in front of him. I
don't know where you come from, Ms.
Grey, but where I come from, you don't
go melting people's cars when they cut
you off. You do it the old fashioned
way -- you give 'em the finger.
(laughs from the crowd)
But what you presume to tell this
committee -

JEAN
I presume nothing, I am here to tell
you that in time, the mutator gene
will activate in every living human
being on this planet. Perhaps even
your children, Senator.

KELLY
I can assure you, there is no such
creature in my genes.

The room LAUGHS. Kelly mistaken thinks it is for him,
until the double meaning occurs to him. He is
momentarily embarrassed, but he quickly recovers.

KELLY (contíd)
Ms. Grey, we are not here to weed out
mutants. The Registration Act is
designed merely to assess their
potential threat - if any - to
national security.

The crowd reacts loudly in support of the Senator. Some
cheer, some roar, some yell obscenities at Jean.

Jean stands and walks out, pushing her way through
reporters now moving in for her response. All the while,
Kelly is delivering his last words.

KELLY (contíd)
Mutants are very real. They are among
us. We must know who they are. And
above all, we must know what they can
do.

AS THE SHOUTS OF THE MOB RISE AND GIVE WAY TO:

EXT. CAPITOL BUILDING - WASHINGTON D.C. - DAY

An angry mob outside the Senate hearing. Voices roar in
dissent when Jean emerges, coming down the steps without
hesitation.

She sees signs condemning mutants, a scarce few
supporting them.

A group of reporters are behind her and more meet her in
front, closing her in. Microphones are shove in her
face.

REPORTERS/VARIOUS
Dr. Grey, how do you feel about the
Senator's Statement / How is the
mutant community reacting? Is it true
that mutants are dangerous? / Is there
a mutant plot to overthrow the
government?

She ignores them all, trying to push through.

ANGLE ON:

A KID IN THE CROWD holding a full can of Coke. Smiling
to his friend beside him. He fires it over the heads of
everyone toward Jean. Perfect trajectory. Closing fast.

Suddenly:

Silence falls over the crowd. A total silence. An
absolute silence.

All eyes watch in awe at the can and its liquid trail,
frozen in mid-air a few inches from Jean's face. It
simply hovers there.

JEAN
Weíre not the ones to be afraid of.

Using telekinesis she slowly lowers the can to the
ground. She shakes her head, almost ashamed of the
display. Almost as if to say ìI didnít want to do that.î

The can rolls down the steps. People move away from it
as though the can itself were dangerous.

The crowd steps back in genuine fear. Jean simply moves
ahead now, unimpeded, still shaking her head.

EXT. CABIN IN THE SNOW COVERED WILDERNESS - DAY

Smoke curling from the chimney, warm light emanating from
the window.

A well-worn pick-up truck parked axles deep in the snow,
the back filled with a cord of cut wood. A hand painted
scrawl on the door reads:

Firewood for Sales

A slope, just behind the cabin leading to a frozen lake.

PUSH IN SLOWLY TOWARDS THE CABIN. Ten beers sit cooling
in the snow outside the door. We hear LED ZEPPELINíS
ìBLACK DOG.î

INT. CABIN - DAY

Music thunders, quite a contrast to the surroundings. A
cosy little abode, showing signs of neglect, as though
decorated with a gentler touch that passed not too long
ago.

A large shelf replete with books. An electric mix from
Sun Tsuís The Art of War to Mark Twainís The Adventures
of Huckleberry Finn.

A fire burns in the fireplace. On the mantle sit a few
old black and white photos of a slightly younger Logan
posing with a group of HARD-CASE MILITARY TYPES in a
heavily wooded area. We can not tell if they are true
Military or simply mercenaries.

In the wall above the mantle, a sketch of a beautiful
woman.

And finally we come to the occupant of the house, sitting
at the only table in the center of the room. His back is
to us. His hair is coarse and black, sprouting wildly
from his head. He is LOGAN. We will come to know him
well. As well as we can.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: Despite the loud, pounding music, he is working with the
meticulousness of a watch maker. At the same time, he
smokes a thick cigar. A tall bottle of beer on the floor
next to his chair. A SINGLE, SILVER DOG TAG hangs from
his neck from a battered chain. As we get closer, we
look over his shoulder and see what he is working on so
intensely.

Pencil rubs against paper furiously. He is sketching,
what we cannot see. But he is definitely caught up in
his own minds eye.

HIS HEAD SUDDENLY TURNS. He listens to something we
cannot begin to hear. A momentary pause, and he goes
back to sketching.

Just as he seems to be settling back into the details
again.

WHACK

He reaches over and shuts off the music coming from the
box beside him. He listens.

He stands, turning around slowly in a circle. He drops
the sketch pad on the chair.

Only the crackle of logs in the fire.

LOGANíS P.O.V.

We follow his gaze around the room. Past the fire which
sounds suddenly like a blazing inferno, past the clock
which ticks as loud as clapping hands, past the simmering
tea-kettle which hisses like a seething cauldron.
Finally, he glances at the cigar which we hear crackling
nearly as loud as the fire.

Loganís senses are amplified many times more then ours,
he walks to the door.

E.C.U.

His nostrils flare.

He raises his fist beside his face. For a moment, it
seems as if he is just chinking. Then -- SHOOK - THREE
STEELY CLAWS some nine inches long, emerge inexplicably
from the skin just above Loganís knuckles.

Logan barley turns his head before.

BOOM

THE WINDOW EXPLODES, letting in freezing wind and
billowing snow.

Logan is hit from behind.

The attack is so ferocious that we are unable to make out
the attacker. Whatever it is, it is HUGE. We can hear
it snarling and see flashes of its claws as it slams
Logan back.

EXT. CABIN - DAY

The front door SMASHES OPEN. The two combatants roll
madly down the hill obscured by flying snow.

Finally, we see Logan separate from his attacker and
CRASH THROUGH THE ICE of the frozen lake.

E.C.U. - A MASSIVE CLAW-LIKE HAND lifts into frame the
SHINING DOG TAG hanging from it. The tagís chain slides
off and too the ground.

UNDER ICE

Logan struggles, already short of breath.

As he struggles -- water starts to fill his lungs. His
skin goes pale. He is drowning.

EXT. ABOVE ICE - DAY

We hear an angry grunt as the thing starts to hunt for
Logan. It stalks across the ice, searching. We catch a
glimpse of shoulder, a CLAWED FOOT, a MANE OF HAIR.

UNDER ICE

Loganís struggle has decreased somewhat as his strength
wanes.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: CRACK

The ice above Logan shatters as a clawed hand reaches
through.

EXT. ABOVE ICE - DAY

A violent YANK. The ice gives way to the soaked and half-
frozen Logan.

The creature picks Logan up by his face, CUTTING DEEPLY
into his cheek, and holds him up like a rag doll. The
two are face to face. This is called SABRETOOTH. The
reasons are obvious.

Teeth like said animal and catís eyes to match.

A mutant, certainly a member of a class remote in the
extreme.

And then it speaks.

SABRETOOTH
Itís not gonna be that easy.

Logan, half-drowned, opens his eyes and looks right at
Sabretooth as though heís going to say something.
Instead, a LUNG-FULL OF WATER comes shooting out.

With that, Sabretooth ROARS, as he hoists Logan up and
throws him. Logan flies nearly ten yards. He lands head
first.

Sabretooth skulks over to him.

With the sound of Sabretoothís breathing comes the rising
of the wind...

Snow from the ground begins to swirl in the bitter cold
air.

Sabretooth is nearly upon Logan now and the wind rises
further, until he must shield his eyes from the bitter
icy air.

As he approaches, we see a fresh cut on Loganís face
HEALING BEFORE OUR VERY EYES, leaving not so much as a
scratch.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: THEN:

A SUDDEN FLASH OF LIGHT

Lightning. No. Lightning is not red.

Sabretooth looks around, puzzled, then down at Loganís
motionless body. Then to his feet where a hole in the
ice sprouts bubbling water.

The wind blows so violently now that he nearly misses two
figures standing only a few yards away - mere silhouettes
in the icy haze.

A closer look tells us it is a man and a woman, THEY WEAR
STRANGE UNIFORMS of form-fitting material - the man wears
a reflective visor that hides his eyes. The womanís face
is care revealing dark skin, penetrating eyes and unusual
white hair.

ANOTHER FLASH - one that seems to come from the manís
visor itself. An intense beam of red light.

Sabretooth looks down and sees the ice at his feet has
broken away.

He plunges through the ice like a mark in a carnival
dunking tank. His massive weight and hairy coat quickly
suck him down.

The TWO FIGURES - CYCLOPS (Scott Summers) AND STORM
(Ororo Munroe) - obviously two of the children we saw
earlier now grown - move over the hole and calmly watch
Sabretooth gather himself and swim back to the surface.

Storm looks down at the hole, concentrating her intense
gaze. The wind whips further and the water in the hole
begins to freeze over.

UNDER THE ICE

Sabretooth wisely concedes.

With one last look at the two mysterious figures now
nearly obscured by the ice, he turns his body and swims
away with the same agility he had on land.

ABOVE THE ICE

THE SNOW AND WIND ARE NOW VIOLENTLY RAGING

Cyclops and Storm walk over to Logan and look down at him
curiously.

LOGANíS P.O.V.

They look at one another, wondering. Above them, a black
shape looms into frame, bringing with it the whining of
jet engines.

This is the X-JET and it is like no other plane we have
seen before.

Loganís eyes begin to close as they obscure the last of
all perceptible detail.

INT. CAVERNOUS ROOM - NIGHT

CLOSE UP ON:

The Periodic Table of Elements. A chart made up of
blocks depicting the elements and their chemical symbols.

Among the standards like Gold (Au) and Iron (I) and
Oxygen (O2) is a new square on simple red construction
paper tacked to the top.

It contains simply a large letter ìA.î

TRACKING SHOT THROUGH:

We are in a laboratory of sorts, quite different from any
we have ever seen -- and so are its occupants.

MORTIMER TOYNBEE, a dim, loyal thug whose agile leaping
ability and superhuman strength have earned him the name
TOAD.

Across the room, JOHN ALLERDYCE, a wiry redhead whose
ability to control fire with his fingers has earned him
the name PYRO.

In the corner we see BLOB, no explanation needed,
devouring a BUCKET of cereal, preariously balanced on his
huge belly.

They are a bestial and sinister bunch.

Toad and Pyro are working on:

A MACHINE

A fantastic device which occupies a hallowed space in
this lab. It is meticulously designed, and with its
intricate circuitry, wires, and power boards, it
resembles most closely (and only resembles, because truly
itís like nothing weíve ever seen before) a combination
of an upright torpedo and a fantastic light source --
only far more dark and foreboding.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: But why?
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: VENGEANCE
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: There's a better way. A way that doesn't annoy the other dead people. Do it in their private messages.
23 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2009: lol. what
27 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2010: I don't have a lot of free time right now but I will gat to my moves. Thanks for being patient.
27 Jan 18 UTC Spring, 2010: I barely have time to proofread
28 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: I still think BC is weak at the start
28 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: Go ahead and take you 3 way
28 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: Your*
30 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: As the sovereign of Tabasco, I promote world peace and women's suffrage
30 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: As the leader of Coahulia, I promote Brick Eating and interpretive dance flash mobs
30 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: Sounds like we can have a mutually beneficial alliance, sharing our advanced cultures all the while
30 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: Indeed, I'll have an ambassador dance on over
30 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: I'll support him into Potosi
30 Jan 18 UTC Autumn, 2010: much obliged
05 Feb 18 UTC Spring, 2012: Did did New York just go NMR?
06 Feb 18 UTC Spring, 2012: Sorry guys, I'm back. Just got caught in the mountains for a minute....
08 Feb 18 UTC Autumn, 2012: I think we should draw
08 Feb 18 UTC Autumn, 2012: Lol
08 Feb 18 UTC Autumn, 2012: Sry for the idle turn folks <3 I was outta town
09 Feb 18 UTC Spring, 2013: We are soo close to being able to circumnavigate the continent via convoy!
11 Feb 18 UTC Alright guys, time to draw
12 Feb 18 UTC Good game folks
12 Feb 18 UTC agreed! well done everyone
12 Feb 18 UTC Now that the game is over i can honestly say that i wasnt trying to get NY to stab you quebec, i was trying to get a defensive allience

Start Backward Open large map Forward End

Quebec
NateDaGreat (135 D)
Drawn. Bet: 5 D, won: 17 D
21 supply-centers, 19 units
Peru
DeepComa (0 D X)
Drawn. Bet: 0 D, won: 17 D
20 supply-centers, 19 units
New-York
Bamawhite (647 D)
Drawn. Bet: 0 D, won: 17 D
17 supply-centers, 18 units
Texas
Leon Slath (398 D)
Defeated. Bet: 0 D
Cuba
Mannerbroheim (205 D)
Defeated. Bet: 0 D
British-Columbia
dovakin1000 (164 D)
Defeated. Bet: 5 D
Mexico
Sage (120 D)
Defeated. Bet: 0 D
Florida
AndrewHerfurt (118 D)
Defeated. Bet: 0 D
California
Chance (107 D)
Defeated. Bet: 5 D
Heartland
Bert59 (0 D X)
Defeated. Bet: 5 D
Civil Disorders
Sphee (80 D)Texas (Autumn, 2000) with 5 centres.
Ye_Boi_scarce (100 D)Peru (Autumn, 1999) with 3 centres.
L_eon (100 D)Mexico (Autumn, 1999) with 3 centres.
THICCNICK (15 D X)New-York (Spring, 2006) with 9 centres.
cock (100 D)Florida (Autumn, 1999) with 3 centres.
hillhank (100 D)Cuba (Spring, 2001) with 4 centres.
Archive: Orders - Maps - Messages