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Were Pogs a Thing?

Started by Demolition Squid, July 29, 2015, 03:36:51 PM

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Doktor Howl

Quote from: Cainad (dec.) on July 29, 2015, 06:05:46 PM
Might as well run an electromagnet over the fucking server now.

I suppose this sort of thing is allowed in England.
Molon Lube

trippinprincezz13

Quote from: Demolition Squid on July 29, 2015, 04:33:45 PM
This seems like a lot of fun!

I decided to make some PD pogs... PDogs! What's not to like?



I thought giving them five sides would make them more discordian, what do you think??

I like them but I might go back to the classic circle, I don't know how these ones will 'slam' after printing. Is that the right word? 'Slam'?

Whoa, whoa, easy there buddy. All pogs are the dominion of Slam-Ur (yea, that's where the phrase comes from; but I don't think you want to stick around for a "slamming"). They belong to him and once you start to making them, you belong to him. You'd better burn your whole computer now, before he awakens to your presence.
There's no sun shine coming through her ass, if you are sure of your penis.

Paranoia is a disease unto itself, and may I add, the person standing next to you, may not be who they appear to be, so take precaution.

If there is no order in your sexual life it may be difficult to stay with a whole skin.

trippinprincezz13

Christ, EOC. You got lucky. To think I use to believe it was just harmless fun.
There's no sun shine coming through her ass, if you are sure of your penis.

Paranoia is a disease unto itself, and may I add, the person standing next to you, may not be who they appear to be, so take precaution.

If there is no order in your sexual life it may be difficult to stay with a whole skin.

Cain

Is it true that gothpogs were a thing?  You know, back when we were all 12 living in the suburbs listening to Linkin Park watching Dragonball Z drinking Pepsi while playing Halo Co-Op on the easiest setting during which we consumed doritos and looked at paintball guns on Ebay in Internet Explorer connected through AOL on a 56K modem before hopping into our balding father's latest midlife-crisis-impulse-sponsored Japanese-built SUV to head to the mall and get more skateboarding shoes and third rate irregular Levis and mountain bike parts before heading home, voting Democrat and masturbating to the latest Sears catalog while huffing paint in your garage before talking to pedophiles on AIM pretending to be whatever camwhore they're ranting about on Myspace with a Matrix quote/anime character name/triple six-asterix-parentheses-surrounded screename before heading to your supposed "good school" in the morning to buy more pot to smoke during your Counterstrike Lan-Party with Jimmy and the rest of his friends taking Ritalin and Adderall and Prozac eight times a day before taking a casual pass at local, state or national governmental figures, legislature, or structure to appear edgy and intelligent in front of your Budweiser-sneaking, limp-wristed, near-to-Columbine sociopathic "deep" friends who play the victim when they start losing arguments six days before their botched suicide attempt simply because school tramp number twelve wouldn't go under the bleachers with them to let them get to second base before their thirteenth birthday.

Right?

Doktor Howl

Quote from: Cain on July 29, 2015, 11:48:21 PM
Is it true that gothpogs were a thing?  You know, back when we were all 12 living in the suburbs listening to Linkin Park watching Dragonball Z drinking Pepsi while playing Halo Co-Op on the easiest setting during which we consumed doritos and looked at paintball guns on Ebay in Internet Explorer connected through AOL on a 56K modem before hopping into our balding father's latest midlife-crisis-impulse-sponsored Japanese-built SUV to head to the mall and get more skateboarding shoes and third rate irregular Levis and mountain bike parts before heading home, voting Democrat and masturbating to the latest Sears catalog while huffing paint in your garage before talking to pedophiles on AIM pretending to be whatever camwhore they're ranting about on Myspace with a Matrix quote/anime character name/triple six-asterix-parentheses-surrounded screename before heading to your supposed "good school" in the morning to buy more pot to smoke during your Counterstrike Lan-Party with Jimmy and the rest of his friends taking Ritalin and Adderall and Prozac eight times a day before taking a casual pass at local, state or national governmental figures, legislature, or structure to appear edgy and intelligent in front of your Budweiser-sneaking, limp-wristed, near-to-Columbine sociopathic "deep" friends who play the victim when they start losing arguments six days before their botched suicide attempt simply because school tramp number twelve wouldn't go under the bleachers with them to let them get to second base before their thirteenth birthday.

Right?

:lulz:
Molon Lube

Richter

Quote from: Eater of Clowns on July 29, 2015, 05:17:27 PM
Hell of a thing, pogs.

They come up around here now and then and my days banging slammers behind the roller rink come back in a flood, the storms and the strange kid and the wreckage. Wreckage of pogs and people.

Richter and I thought we could hash it out, you know, after the last time. Talk therapy or something, I don't know. We met up for some fine German beer and maybe a round or two of Barenjager. Nothing treats the soul like live accordian and drinking songs. It was game night, the perfect thing, maybe a pickup game of Catan could distract us if it got too real.

But it was game night. Splayed across fields of folding plastic was an array of tabletop ranging from simple card to complex miniature. They held the attention of bodies in steel chairs happily sipping on imported lager. Richter and I nodded our approvals. This would do, yeah, this would be fine.

We were insufficiently drunk to bring up the topic of pogs, of course, but every quarter hour or so one of us would look up at the other, just about ready to say it, then toss the dice again before we made such a dumb mistake. The other gamers were friendly and invited us to a few of their rounds, one guy in particular taking interest. He bought us drinks and clapped us on the back after good plays and we circled the place, sticking to the light stuff, nothing with collectible components.

It was maybe the third hour in that our new friend pulled us aside. Got a different kind of game going, guys, if you're interested. None of this casual shit. He reached into his pocket and before he could show us his hand I shoved him away. I grabbed Richter and moved us toward the exit but it was too late. As the guy stumbled back he dropped them and they made a telling soft sound, a dozen of them and then a clatter of something heavy.

It was too much for Richter. He ripped his arm free and turned and surveyed the room, the battlefield, the killing grounds. Honed instinct took him and the daze of booze drained from his eyes. Richter, I called, go someplace else. Go someplace else but too little, too little. When the first table fell and the various gamers drunkenly scrambled away I got out of there.

Never did hear about the aftermath. You don't look back with pogs.

Pogs, man. Hell of a thing.

My first job got lost to pogs.

I'd pulled my shit together after college - the summers of camp counselling during the pog resurgence of the early 2000's, and had got respectable.  Then I had the BIG relapse

I was hucking mortgages with some hugeass firm, making a mint in commissions, and draining it all into stacked cardboard roundcrack at back tables in Denny's before the market fell apart in '08

I was betting whole stacks of slammers and not giving a damn, drunk on the oppulence of it all.  My manager asked me about my numbers one day as I was truing up a stack at work - jsut for practice mind you.  He got offended, and so I dropped a custom Samoan torpedo between his eyes.  Lead weighted - stricktly non-reg - a hallmark of those who came up in public school back alley stackduels.

He lost consciousness, I lost a job.  I wailed enough about stress and quotas to HR that no charges were pressed.  Still out though.  A year of deep rolling business, and not a single recomendation to show. 

I got clean, got another job, and pulled my shit together. 

Sure a little CCG or minigaming, but I kept to tabletop.  all well and good.  Then we went to the bar.

There were screams after the little incident EoC mentioned.  Some millenial took exception to OLD SCHOOL play, and was letting my know about it.

"The fuck man!  The FUCK!  It ain't the 90's man!  No one plays that way anymore!  We know bet.."

I chipped the corner of a 6mm plastic slammer on an upturned table leg and slashed him down the face before he could finish.  A juvvie - kid move, but it made my point.  I get bored with the refrain of anyone who isn't going to be serious about their pogs.

"I'm here to play, not to hear you bitch."

His buddy was siddling up with a beer bottle, thinking I couldn't see him.  EoC had my back though, and started cramming some Brony's stack of "rainbow dash limiteds" up his left nostril.

"POLITE company." he was telling the guy in an almost conciliatory tone. "POLITE."

The deviant dropped his bottle in favor of un-deviating his septum.

"We should go..." I managed, sensing gametime was well done as the door burst in and the police arrived.

That broke the tension.  Like a snowbank giving way, or a and dune deciding to imitate a liquid the crowd stove in on itself.  EoC backed out, and I hit the deck, amidst a rush of clambering hands and kicking boots.  It would look better if I LOOKEd like I was getting the stomping.  Picked up respectable dig to my scalp in addition to loosing the sharpened slammer, and wiping the blood off my hand in a puddle of beer.

Calm?  Crazy?  not exactly.  I jsut had a very GOOD sense of priorities and consequences at the point.

Thing you learn with pogs; always build the stack in YOUR favor.
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 22, 2015, 03:00:53 AM
Anyone ever think about how Richter inhabits the same reality as you and just scream and scream and scream, but in a good way?   :lulz:

Friendly Neighborhood Mentat

Doktor Howl

Molon Lube

Meunster

Guys stop please. I can't tell your satire, my satire, and the truth apart anymore.
Poe's law ;)

Doktor Howl

Quote from: Meunster on July 30, 2015, 01:44:44 AM
Guys stop please. I can't tell your satire, my satire, and the truth apart anymore.

You will shut your whore mouth when people are discussing pogs.

I'm so fucking glad we keep the main pogs board as limited-access.
Molon Lube

Richter

Yes.  Some of us are serious about our hobbies, after all.
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 22, 2015, 03:00:53 AM
Anyone ever think about how Richter inhabits the same reality as you and just scream and scream and scream, but in a good way?   :lulz:

Friendly Neighborhood Mentat

Eater of Clowns

We were at Turner's Pond and it was early, real early. I'd pulled up ready for the run and saw her standing off the path and looking out over the water. There was a little pile of flat stones by her feet. She'd been here long enough to collect them.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey."

"We're not running today, are we?"

She didn't look at me. She picked up one of the flat stones and she hefted it in her palm. She swung her arm back over her hip and let it fly over the water, swiveling just a little on follow through. The rock skipped once, twice, three times. Little splashes like thunderclaps, little ripples like tidal waves.

"No," she said.

I nodded. She couldn't see me. She picked up another stone. I winced as she threw it.

"Listen," I said, "could you stop for a second and-"

"No!" Finally she turned to face me. "Can you stop, EoC? Can you stop?" She tossed the next stone. Skip, skip, skip, plunk. Would have been a good throw for a half stack. Too much power for a full, not enough spin. "You can't, can you? You know, when we started dating, I told you I couldn't go back to it, I told you that part of me was gone. I told you that I couldn't be around it anymore and you promised me those days were behind you. Promised me!"

I was silent. I picked up one of her stones. Would have been a great custom slammer, flat but just a little fat in the center, would have fooled even the regulars with the weight. I looked at her and I looked over the water, then I tossed the thing down like a stack was on the other end. It was mean and she set her jaw.

"You miss it," I said. "Listen, you know you could just do it casually. I know this one crew, they don't even play for keeps, you can-"

"Goodbye, EoC." That was it. It was final.

I walked back to the path, back to the lot and the car. Behind me the world went skip, skip, skip, plunk and all the little sprayed droplets were a thousand cardboard discs.
Quote from: Pippa Twiddleton on December 22, 2012, 01:06:36 AM
EoC, you are the bane of my existence.

Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on March 07, 2014, 01:18:23 AM
EoC doesn't make creepy.

EoC makes creepy worse.

Quote
the afflicted persons get hold of and consume carrots even in socially quite unacceptable situations.

Doktor Howl

Quote from: Richter on July 30, 2015, 02:00:07 AM
Yes.  Some of us are serious about our hobbies slavering addictions, after all.

FTFY
Molon Lube

Doktor Howl

I was sitting at my desk drinking coffee "plus", when she walked in.  A dame, a dame to make a calloused slammer kick a hole in the gameshop window.

She sat down, and stifled a sob.  "I need your help, Mr Spade," she said, "I don't know where else to turn."

"Husband running around on you?"

She shook her head, and burst into tears.  "My whole collection is gone.  The fat man sent his goons around and took them while I was out."

"You left your collection at home?"  Personally, I carry mine in a duffle bag at all times.

"I don't...I don't know what I was thinking!"

I knew she was lying.  She didn't have the poise of a player.  But a job is a job, right?

"I charge $20 per day.  Plus expenses."
Molon Lube

Mesozoic Mister Nigel

Listen, you guys. I can't be here for this. I stayed off the board all day, hoping it would die down, but... here it is. I asked you to set my permissions to n00b for a REASON. I CHOSE to be locked out of the pogs board. If you want to have this out in the open, like in the old days... well, that's your decision to make. But you know perfectly well that I can't. I can't go back there, I can't be around this. It cost me too much, back then -- I wanted more kids. And yeah, I know I did it to myself, but things are different now. Things are better, a LOT better. I have my shit together, I'm almost done with my degree, I'm going places.

I'm not like I was. And my hands are shaking, writing this. But I don't want to be like I was, either. So I'm gonna take a break from this place, for a while at least.

See you on the flip side.

Dammit. I'm crying now.

Goodbye.
"I'm guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk," Charles Wick said. "It was very complicated."


Doktor Howl

You'll be back. 

Everyone comes back.  It's Pogs.
Molon Lube