Hey guys. The pogs craze kind of passed me by when I was young. I'm in a weird position where I can see the effect of pogs and the reaction to pogs but not the pogs themselves. The McDonald's, the Krokodil, the odd Happy Days rerun. Its not like I can livestream pogs, so what was it like for the people who lived through it? Do you still have the battle scars? What are your memories of pogs?
(http://cdn.instructables.com/FW6/1JBG/GWYAWS6H/FW61JBGGWYAWS6H.LARGE.jpg)
What does it mean?!
We don't talk about those things.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK will a mod please delete this thread??
Quote from: Mesozoic Mister Nigel on July 29, 2015, 03:48:20 PM
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK will a mod please delete this thread??
Thank you.
Wow guys why the hate? :cry:
Look I found this really interesting site, apparently you can make your own pogs?? http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-make-your-own-Pogs-Tazos-Caps-Flippos-an/step1/STEP-1-SUPPLIES/
They also talk about tazos, caps, flippos and walkers? Are these the same as pogs?? All that old timey slang is so weird LOL
Quote from: Demolition Squid on July 29, 2015, 03:51:58 PM
Wow guys why the hate? :cry:
Look I found this really interesting site, apparently you can make your own pogs?? http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-make-your-own-Pogs-Tazos-Caps-Flippos-an/step1/STEP-1-SUPPLIES/
They also talk about tazos, caps, flippos and walkers? Are these the same as pogs?? All that old timey slang is so weird LOL
Oh Jesus Christ.
ogodweareallfuckedforever
One time I pogged so hard that I became the goth.
Best to leave well enough alone.
Must admit I hardly even noticed this one. The ingress community seem big on "coins" which strike me as the same deal. I think it appeals to the collector mentality?
Quote from: Demolition Squid on July 29, 2015, 03:51:58 PM
Wow guys why the hate? :cry:
Look I found this really interesting site, apparently you can make your own pogs?? http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-make-your-own-Pogs-Tazos-Caps-Flippos-an/step1/STEP-1-SUPPLIES/
They also talk about tazos, caps, flippos and walkers? Are these the same as pogs?? All that old timey slang is so weird LOL
YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE IT WORSE.
When Faust sees this I just... I don't even want to think about it.
This seems like a lot of fun!
I decided to make some PD pogs... PDogs! What's not to like?
(http://i.imgur.com/3sIFh9Q.png)
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'?
Oh you son of a bitch.
You have no idea what you have done.
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.
I can't believe this was allowed to happen.
Might as well run an electromagnet over the fucking server now.
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.
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?
(http://i.imgur.com/3sIFh9Q.png)
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.
Christ, EOC. You got lucky. To think I use to believe it was just harmless fun.
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?
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:
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.
:lulz:
*wheeze*
:lulz:
Guys stop please. I can't tell your satire, my satire, and the truth apart anymore.
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.
Yes. Some of us are serious about our hobbies, after all.
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: Richter on July 30, 2015, 02:00:07 AM
Yes. Some of us are serious about our hobbies slavering addictions, after all.
FTFY
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."
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.
You'll be back.
Everyone comes back. It's Pogs.
I hate you all so fucking much.
I can't believe you all. You were doing so well, too. What are you guys doing, falling off the wagon and talking about pogs in PUBLIC? -shakes head-
DIE IN A FIRE! IN ALF FORM!
I'm stuck in an infinite pedantic loop trying to decide if the title of this thread should be "Was pogs a thing?" or "Were pogs things?".
Halp!
Sigh....
It was 1999.
The human race had to face it. They were confronted with the truth
It was secret -- mysterious. A surgeon said it in the news. The human race was dying.
But the result was no disease searching for you.
They found it everywhere. Lifeless pieces of plastic.
Yet, it seemed to be sentient.
The scary facts were never told.
Total confusion.
They found the same nightmare:
Our hearts were timebombs.
Or so, the poet said it.
I poured myself a pint glass of cheap tequila and faced my opponent with grim determination. Woke up the day after with a serious headace due to the tequila and the pog lodged in my skull.
I wish I could say I never went to that place again.
John Stalvern waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were pogs in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Cernel Joson were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
John was a space marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the spaceships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY POGS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the space station base of the UAC he knew there were pogs.
"This is Joson" the radio crackered. "You must fight the pogs!"
So John gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the pogs
"I will shoot at him" said the cyberdemon and he fired the rocket missiles. John plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the pogs" he shouted
The radio said "No, John. You are the pogs"
And then John was a zombie.
:mittens:
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on July 30, 2015, 07:15:45 PM
John Stalvern waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were pogs in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Cernel Joson were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
John was a space marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the spaceships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY POGS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the space station base of the UAC he knew there were pogs.
"This is Joson" the radio crackered. "You must fight the pogs!"
So John gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the pogs
"I will shoot at him" said the cyberdemon and he fired the rocket missiles. John plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the pogs" he shouted
The radio said "No, John. You are the pogs"
And then John was a zombie.
:spit:
guys
im so sorry
been quiet in this thread
went 2 find pogs players
back alley
they do not like hexagonal pogs
lesson learned
have some pictures have not uploaded them from camera yet keep crying and shaking too much
so sorry
FER Fucksake. Really.
Case your pogs scene. Show up. Don't flash some shiny slammers or shit unless your're a damn master. See how they play. Don't pry, so they know you're not some narc looking into gambling, or trying to expose them as cover for a drug or felatio ring.
If they play hex, or don't, watch. Be cool. Ask, but be ready to get rejected a few times if they've got a tourney or some shit on. Bide your time, let them see you.
If you don't and you're walking home funny with a pig tube lodged up yo ass don't blame me.