With a bit more tusk fodder shipped in from the mainland, we proceed into the tiny Zerg forward base. Yeah! Take that, tiny harvesting creature! War is easy.įinally, more Ultralisks! Those were the longest seven seconds of my life. Teach those damn bugs to defend that Hive thing, that I guess they consider to be their mother. His widow is told that he died in battle.Īlright, time to harvest a few scalps. Emboldened by his display of leadership, private Rezner turns and walk decisively into the path of an impatient Siege Tank. Sergeant Nuñez surveys his assembled band of warriors, and takes the first grim step toward the dropships. Our strike team huddles together in preparation for the coming mission. There’s a lot of number crunching behind the upgrades that I never bothered to learn, but I do know that when that bar finishes, stuff dies more. In preparation for our grand campaign to purge these lands of what appears to be a ninety feet deep blanket of Ultralisks, a few upgrades to our warmachines might not be terribly amiss. I’m pretty sure most of that red stuff used to be hostile. I wonder how Duke’s doing.Īlright, that does it! Mothers, lend me your sons! These will be properly introduced in Chapter 8, since I messed up the chronology of the updates. Well, probably just those two.Ī forward position has been established, but I think reinforcements are in order. I sympathize with the sentiment, but I do need him for warmaking. Somewhere on this map there is a queen, for whom the only purpose in life is drenching Duke in liquid green love. Needless to say, they pack a huge punch and absorb bullets like a big… bullet sponge. I haven’t been entirely consistent introducing Zerg units, so I’ll just save the formalities for the actual Zerg campaign. That building-sized assembly of mandibles and abject insanity is known as a Zerg Ultralisk. As always, the solution is to build more SCVs.ĭuke, eternally a man of action, leads (pushes) a squad of Marines into the wilderness. I tried building a supply depot in the way, but that just made it worse. There’s a spot a little way north, that some of them feel a mighty need to round, before hitting the fields. Duke dishes out the hurt in Siege mode.įor some reason the SCV pathfinding is kind of wonky in this map. Wise beyond his beard, Raynor withdraws and lets the Zerg aggressors wash against the rock hard base defenses.
Raynor, his sharpest eveningwear ruined by crusty Zerg albumen, decides that nearby clocks are in dire need of cleaning. Luckily Marines and bunkers cost only minerals, so I can get with the defensemaking first. Still, with no natural geyser I’ll have to assimilate it eventually. Economics must now take a back seat to some phat recon.Ī single nearby geyser taunts me with the prospect of mining and protecting it, with precious minerals that could have been spent on Engineering Bays. Like some kind of three-jawed dogface, digesting some kind of skinless space-octopus, the Zerg Hive slumbers, awaiting the mighty crush of my boot.Ī quick jump of the ole Command Center makes mineral gathering a breeze. Somewhat in the middle of the map, my objective looms. I’ll need some solid recon, some solid defense and some solid firepower, in that order. If that was really true you’d be sleeping with the space penguins.įor once I am in the barely remembered position, of playing a mission for the first time. You have no idea what you’re talking about! You’re drunker than me! Not, say, the gifted, young, handsome Magistrate that’s responsible for every success this deadbeat terror cell ever had. Oh sure, let’s clear the floor for the invisible riflegirl. Will you two just kiss and get it over with already? But thanks for coming in Duke.Īlso, hey! I’m the guy with the tactics over here! Raynor is just a jerk on a motorcycle, that can’t keep a decent shaving schedule. Don’t make up names for stuff.Įxactly why we’d need tactics to win. Kerrigan engages her cloaking field and trips him, as he tries to leave with a semblance of dignity. The next morning he stumbles into the communal showers and spends forty five extremely hung over seconds trying to turn on the water, before realizing that he is actually in the dining hall, switching the lights on and off. As planets ignite with the saintly blue glow of the Protoss’ righteous fire he drinks to the millions of lives lost, as well as to the dogs on nearby planets who are probably cowering in fear at the explosions. Within the space of 25 minutes, he has arranged the complete alcoholic contents of his minibar in a line on his windowsill. With Confederate war hero, and multiple DUI recipient, Edmund Duke in custody, the Magistrate retires from a long day of widowmaking, as the fleet of Arcturus Mengsk take to the skies.
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