descentchampions.org

From our BI3 game tonight. Warning: A spot of language.

Patience is a virtue

This is a game about doors.

You appear in a maze in front of a door. You cannot open this door. But there are lots of other doors that must be opened. Most of them are adverse to weapons fire and open when you shoot them. Some are locked and you need to find keys to open them. Some have people trapped behind them and you have to explode the door to get them out. But there is one door, one supreme final door, which only opens when you wreak sufficient havoc upon the maze that it self destructs. Then with breakneck speed you fly through this door as the world is engulfed in brightness and hellfire.

And then you go home.

And then there are doors with Zero behind it. Those are the most frightening.

Before reading this post, stick on headphones and start listening to this , while it's playing, continue reading....

@Watts:
Some of us haven't made it home yet. I've been in the mines for 6 years already, and am one of the recent pilots. While I have passed the last door on the last level of D3, I have not passed through my final door for descent. I have not gone home. Some part of my mind has been trapped in the mines and remains there still, day and night.

Do descent pilots have stockholm syndrome? Have we fallen in love with what enslaves us? Will we ever be free, or are we cursed to forever wander the silent hallways and hidden mazes in our battered and worn out Pyro's?


Why do I return to the my ship?
To fly and to fight 'just for a bit?'
Yet here I am, seated once more.
Hand on the mouse, watching the door.

Into the tunnel, run away, flee.
Out to the dog-room, try to dodge me.

Oh why do I fly, not up in the sky,
But here in the mines with dark in my eye?
Is it from hate, or is it for fame?
Or is it because I can't master this game?

The hallways look empty, but I'm not alone.
With the clamor of fusion, you tell me you're home.

Once more I dive to the realm of Descent.
Where the community has given their consent.
To learn from the best, to die at their hand.
But I rise from my ashes, cursed never to land.



(Another contender for the music was )

Beautiful