D-38 Boss

You got about a 50-50 chance of me being there. *Added it to the calender for ya.

In it to win it.

*Ahem...* http://343i.org/2ev

That was the point of me picking it.

Happy October everyone.

Oh yeah!? I can look angry too!

Reading all of these problems, I have but one solution: Don't make a machinima. You don't have access to anything required to make it other than maybe the possibility to write one. It would go against logic to try to make one when you pretty much physically can't, given the circumstances.

FORUM PATROL! MOVE OUT!

Because....

Smeeze

Poop. | V

DANG IT! NOW THERE'S ONE LESS OTHER TRIGUN FAN AROUND HERE! Seriously though, I feel you, I hope everything works out, and You'd better come on back REAL soon now.

What would you say is your favorite Non-Halo game of all time?

I'll most likely be there, unless something more important comes up.

That was the plan.

“We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” -Winston Churchill None were so affected by the attack on Reach than the planet's own people. The testament of the only surviving members of the town of Martinville, a small township a few miles outside of New Alexandria; is one of horror, trials, perseverance, and bravery. Outnumbered, and overpowered, they fought against the invaders to the bitter end. Of the 350 men and women who made up the population, only 3 survived; Members of the Martinville Militia. The following is based on their personal accounts. July 24th, 2552 Life on Reach was simple, Idyllic. The cities were bastions of civilization, the villages and towns; Pretty as a painting. Martinville was the latter. A small town based outside of New Alexandria, whose sole purpose was to repair and maintain the cities water supply. Of the population, a mere 20 or so men made up the Martinville Militia. Three men, life long members, spent their day doing little more than culling the local Moa population, and kicking back, drinking and feeling proud that they were so important to their hometown. The three; Gregory Landon, Philip Harris, and Troy Barker, had been friends since they were little, and had lived in Martinville their whole lives. Sitting on a roof top perch, drinking and watching the sun set, the three couldn't have been more comfortable. “You believe all that junk on the news about aliens?” Phil asked the others, before crushing his empty beer can, and retrieving another. “You saw the same thing we did, Philly.” Greg replied. “I dunno what to make of it.” “I think it's some Insurrectionist plot.” Phil said, cracking open the fresh beer. “They want to freak us all out, right? That way, while we're cranin' our necks lookin' to the stars for aliens, they stab us in the throat.” “That's what you think?” Troy scoffed, sliding his DMR aside. “I thought you said it was a race of super advanced Moa last week?” “I was drunk, okay?” “Like always.” An empty can bounced off of Troy's head. “Jerk.” Troy hopped to his feet, jerking his head over to Phil with the intention of giving the inebriated man a well-deserved piece of his mind, but a loud rumble overtook the air, drawing his attention to the source. Two Falcons passed overhead. Troy snatched his spotting scope and looked over to the two choppers. Inside, he saw bulky looking, heavily armed military troops of some kind. The looked to be heading in the direction of the old Visigrad Relay. “You guys notice a lot more soldiers moving around these days?” Troy asked. “Maybe. But ain't they always meeting up for training exercises and stuff?” Phil said. “At Visigrad?” Troy scoffed. “They'd break everything there!” “What ever the hell they got there, any way... all hush-hush, top secret stuff. I bet that's where they spy on us from.” Phil said, a serious look in his eyes. “Phil, do you ever listen to the crap that comes out of your mouth?” Greg asked. “I'm not the one who needs to. If you two listened a lot more, you'd understand what I was talking about.” “Look, Phil, we do listen. Moa's are NOT plotting to dominate Reach, There are NOT mole people under New Alexandria who only come out for dance parties, and there is No such thing as 'ONI'.” Troy said, finishing with a huff as he plopped back into his seat. “You'll see. Trust me, when it all hits the fan, you're gonna be thankful I ain't abandoned you guys. You'll need what I know.” “I'm sure that day's coming REAL soon, Philly.” Greg scoffed. The three sat in silence for a while, enjoying a moment of peace. However, all of them jumped at the continuous sounds of gunfire coming from the direction of Visigrad Relay. “I told you it'd happen!” Phil shouted, jumping to his feet, and nearly falling off the roof. “Calm down, Phil. The army boys are probably rootin' out some Innies or something. Nothing to worry about.” Greg said, reaching for another beer. None of them could have guessed, although Phil probably speculated, the change that was coming.

Pop me down as a maybe.

Eh, not for me. Now if it was Hockey.... Yeah.