Operation
Winter? SCULimpics '14
The year (in terms of Western Christian era based calendrical systems) is 823 BC. Goatherdus of Olympia, a goat herder from Olympia, is watching over his flock of goats entirely unaware that history is about to be (and in a manner had always been) rewritten.

There is a bright flash of light in the sky.

The year is 2014 AD (in terms of that same calendrical system) and we stand under the protection of the Grackle, hiding from cold weather that failed to present itself. I am telling the battalion that the flame carried in Threespeed's lantern represents our enduring fun and that if it should ever be extinguished we will reignite it. XXIII's blow torch is extended and the flame jumps from the lantern to its new home.

Goatherdus' eyes regain focus as he watches in the heavens a brilliant flame streak across the sky.

The blow torch passes the hands of several pilots until it arrives at Snow's portable burner. The burner flares and we feel its warmth. We huddle around it, partaking in warm cider and hot toddies. Marshmallows are roasted and we discuss the great secret of how to cook the perfect marshmallow, marveling over Snow's spherical, gooey creations. I hear a "behhhh" in the distance, but quickly dismiss it - it must be Dr Claw's playlist, a peculiar sound to sample, but at least it's not Greek folk funk.

Goatherdus stands there, dumbfounded. The ears of several goats perk up as a faint thumping rhythm drifts distantly on the wind. Goatherdus pays no attention, assuming it must be the goats pounding their feet, frightened by the image of the flame now faded from sight. He is also now preoccupied by what appears to be dancing people on a hill off in the distance. They disappear. He rubs his head and swears off the root he has been stealing from the local temple for several weeks now.

"Sir, there is something wrong with our chronometers... they... well, sir, they are turning pink." "And what's wrong with pink?" "Uh, nothing, but I would advise we move on." We mount our ships and head to our next location. I am worried by the news, but I am trying to not let it show.

Wub, bzzrt, SNAP! A loud crack echoes across the hills. The goats scatter in all directions to the dismay of poor Goatherdus who is seriously reconsidering his career as a goat herder. Why hadn't he been a stand-up philosopher?

"MECHANICAL!" The battalion comes to a halt and we rush to Trez Bonz. Its sissy bar had snapped, the top now resting on the ground, an instant artifact: The Unlucky Horseshoe. As XXIII strapped the saddle back into place with plasma casing, I poured over computer readouts. Just as I had worried, time and space were losing cohesion.

Goatherdus throws down his goat herding staff (named Goatstafus of Ghoatherdus of Olympia) and begins his walk home, defeated. Out of the corner of his eye he sees rapid movement, but pays it no mind, having little mind left to give.

Dr. Claw returns from his scouting mission and reports that he saw what he assumed to be a privatized ST near our SCULimpic destination. Stogie stops by for a quick hello and we take off. We sneak past in silent running with our laser beams turned off, avoiding notice as we arrive at our destination. The SCULimpic games had begun!

And Goatherdus arrives home and immediately pours himself some wine, trying to clear his thoughts through the age old method of confusing them. The strange visions and sounds seeming to have passed he begins to relax and let the wine course through his body and mind.

We start with Limbo, using Derby tape as a pole. Then things get weird. Tyrian fades in and out of view as he approaches the Limbo ribbon, Cortana catching him with stillcam mid-phase (see the mission visual log for proof of this anomaly). I glance around and the other pilots, preoccupied with fun, did not seem to notice, likely blaming it on the Space Toddies consumed earlier.

Then Goatherdus hears faint music, quickly becoming louder. He looks up and sees something that dwarfs the other peculiarities of the day. A strangely adorned being riding atop a rapidly moving chariot, horseless and of inexplicable geometries. Just as Goatherdus gives up on any hope that he is sane, the music becomes fully audible and his day changes. A smile crosses his face. Although he was from a long line of poor goat herders, a lyre had been passed down for generations and each first son learned to play it. He loved music, even more than goat herding and stand-up philosophy, and although the sounds he was hearing were alien, unexplainable, and a definite hint at insanity, he quickly grabbed his lyre. Retuning it to fit the strange tonal system, he began to play.

Silence becomes overwhelming and out of fear of losing morale, we fire up Cloudbuster's sonic disrupters and bust the funk. Remixes of our favorites song play, much like the originals but with an additional lyre track accompanied by greek singing. I think to myself, "greek folk funk, totally played out." We began the Wookiee Challenge.

Bane T. Wolf faces off with Cortana. Both neck and neck when Bane suddenly lurches forward - space and time warping around him, a wave of spacial displacement nipping at his heels. I glance over at my ship's control panel to see the temporal differentiators and spaceometers spinning wildly. I look back up just in time to see him collide head first into the wall of the arena, thrown from his ship as if he had stumbled over something not actually there.

Goatherdus, no longer caring about the chariots buzzing through his room or the strangely adorned beings standing around, flickering in and out of sigh, dances and plays. Everything he sees seems happy and right and he knows it is good. No one would believe him anyways, so why worry about what he would say? I feel the same.

As the night comes to a close and morning approaches, we prepare for the voyage home. To our horror we discover that time bandits had slipped through the rift in the time-space continuum and stolen Snow's civi. There is a shuffle of ships, Tyrian and Deadblow riding double on Lunatic's civi, Snow riding Mad Rabbit, and Lunatic taking Chastity so everyone can make it home together. And then we did.

Goatherdus later moved on from the goat herding business to become a stand-up philosopher, mixing music in with his routines. It was a sound that would echo across millennia and eventually become Funk music in the 20th century. Not only that, but his tales of unearthly competitors (which he used as allegories in his philosophy) would go on to inspire the founding of the Earth Olympic Games.

~~~~~

At some point Lunatic joined us.

This SCULimpics saw the addition of three games never before played at SCULimpics.

The first was a reprise of the recent Tron Derby, run by Dr. Claw.

The next was the never before played Tractor Push invented by Lunatic during the games. Pilots paired off. One pilot would ride beside the other pushing them forward. The pushed pilot was not allowed to propel themselves forward, and could only navigate.

The third was an event created earlier in the day by Puppy called Triple Double, part of the Doubles and Double Mint family. Pilots get into pairs, each pilot having a ship. The pairs split up on either end of the field, we'll call them pilot A on one side and pilot B on the other. Pilot B stands next to their ship which is laying on the ground. Pilot A rides towards pilot B. Upon pilot A arriving, pilot B picks up their ship and mounts Pilot A's, holding the ship off the ground. Both pilots and both ships travel back to the starting line together. This turned out to be entirely possible, but very difficult.

Limbo and Wookiee Challenge were also played.
Pilot Ship Points Promotion
BaneThunderwolf Darkendank 268.328  
Cortana Mjollnir 417.418   Petty Officer 2nd Class
danimal Megas-TuTu 865.31   Chief Petty Officer
Dare CivilianShip2 0  
Deadblow Mad Rabbit 234.374   Senior Chief Petty Officer
DrClaw Skywarp 271.911  
Puppy Bieber Fever 0  
Sewer Catastrophe 344.491  
Sidekick Yer Mom 175.04  
Snow Civilianship 50.008  
Threespeed Pinafore 25.008  
Tyrian Chastity 412.792   Commander
Wombat Cloudbuster 276.706   Admiral
XXIII Trez Bonz 502.789  
Mission Task Pilot
Airlock Cortana
Chalk Bag Tyrian
Cleaner Tyrian
Compressor Wrangler BaneThunderwolf
ComSat Monkey Deadblow
Damage Control Sidekick
Deck Officer XXIII
Deck Officer Asst. XXIII
Flat Bag Sewer
Food Wrangler danimal
Medi Bag Snow
Minister of Zoobs DrClaw
Mission Leader danimal
Mission Reporter danimal
MRC Officer danimal
Navigator BaneThunderwolf
RadioBox A Wombat
Recycler Tyrian
Sticker Bag XXIII
Still Cam Cortana
Tailgunner XXIII
Tool Bag Sewer
Wookiee Bag DrClaw
Division: MAD
Date: 10/25/2014
Status: Success 
Origin: Fort Tyler
Destination: Ancient glory
Light Years: 10.0695
G-Well Activity: 1.7286
Technical Rating: 3.1404