The three hour trip up Rt. 17 can only be described by using such words as: "bleak", "dull", "void", and "uneventful". In theory, if your car breaks down at 4am the best thing you can do for yourself is to lock the doors, load your BT-4 and wait for the dawn because there are long stretches with no points of reference other than "up or down". And sitting in the dark, with your MP3 player making an unfortunate random selection, you can't help but wonder if something might come shambling out of the S.C. swamps and press its mutated, bloated face up against your windshield glass, leaving you to wish you'd never left the comfort of your mother's womb!
Fortunately, none of this actually happened, and the lonely stretch of road turned out to be the most unsettling part of my day as I traveled to Adventure Beach Paintball, manfully named and located in Tabor City, NC. Also exquisitely close to Myrtle Beach, with its mini-golf, water slides, and this thing:
Holy Shitz!
Holy Shitz! ABP boasts a speedball field that was currently deflated and not in use with the scenario, but had just oodles of situational constructs to go with its field. When possible, I love going to a field that is made up of several different situations...CPX Sports comes to mind, where every 50 yards will take you to a totally different environment. For our match today, we were only using about 2/3rds of the full field but that was all we needed, with a strip of woods, and some base emplacements complete with a satellite dish. But the majority of the day's action would see us in the center of their town scenario with a mad rush to control the first and second-level floors of the church tower.
The pro-shop/break area was reassuring. Indoor bathrooms, an area to tweak your stuff, a cafe-style sit down area to plot and scheme, and an adjoining store. Paint was avg $50/case. Admission $30 with fills included. Further was our owner, Kevin, who ran the event schedule for the day with all the hand-rubbing enthusiasm of a proud business owner, despite our modest numbers. Teams broke up into about 20 per side, so yours truly slid over to be with a fire-team-sized element from Big Army. This usually turned out to be a good decision as there were some legitimate maniacs on the other side. Also notable were a small horde of youngsters, some of which came up to my waist in height. We called them over to our side as everyone knows you can't hit those little weasels for nothing, and their bringing up a gun to eye level is the equivalent of getting shot in the nuts for an adult. It was way safer to have them where you could see them.
You're out, little dude.
Starting off, the game was control of objects, and holding flag stations. There were 30 of these adorable little 1:8th scale inflatable bunkers that were strewn all over the field and you had to collect them and bring them back to your station for points. We sent a lot of youngsters after those while the big kids blasted their way to the flag stations. Big Army was a Big Help with their good communication and small-squad tactics. Also notable up front were two members of Port City Militia: Rainmaker, and Duck Dodgers who gave quiet inspiration and charged emplacements.
...and then there's this hot bastard...
-The buzzword of the day was "overwatch", as I found myself with the super-sweet position of being on the second floor, looking out over a huge chunk of the field's activities. If I saw something untoward, I 1.)called it out to any nearby teammates, and 2.) blasted away at it. A home-grown team out of Myrtle Beach were extremely persistent in their aggression. I had several close-quarters slugfests with a few of them.
-Gameplay went back and forth the entire day, and the score was too close to call at any point in the game, so knowing the gameplay was fairly balanced felt good. Gunplay was 99% civil with waves and handshakes afterwards. On one occasion I witnessed a call in doubt which was contained by an enthusiastic referee staff, but only after the dread word: "Shenanigans!" was used by a player...
Hey man, you can't use the s-word around here!
-Breaks were about 20 minutes in-between hour long battles, so the flow of everything worked out well, with Kevin checking up on players to get their opinions and reflections. People can't help showing off their gear during that time, especially to freak out the newer players. The guy parked next to me had a gun for every mood swing, but felt that my helmet camera must have cost a fortune. He seemed aghast when I suggested he sell one of his guns to get one.
Breaks also seemed to have me somehow once again surrounded by little kids who wanted to hear some of my stories about magical places where hundreds, if not thousands of players come to one field. And they bring tanks, and wear magnificent costumes, or sometimes even kilts! And did you know that there's this place in New Jersey where you can insert by helicopter? Yep, there's a lot to look forward to, my sons. I love the looks on their faces when I tell them a few war stories...time it just right and I can give them my faraway look of a man who has seen great and terrible deeds.
The pro-shop/break area was reassuring. Indoor bathrooms, an area to tweak your stuff, a cafe-style sit down area to plot and scheme, and an adjoining store. Paint was avg $50/case. Admission $30 with fills included. Further was our owner, Kevin, who ran the event schedule for the day with all the hand-rubbing enthusiasm of a proud business owner, despite our modest numbers. Teams broke up into about 20 per side, so yours truly slid over to be with a fire-team-sized element from Big Army. This usually turned out to be a good decision as there were some legitimate maniacs on the other side. Also notable were a small horde of youngsters, some of which came up to my waist in height. We called them over to our side as everyone knows you can't hit those little weasels for nothing, and their bringing up a gun to eye level is the equivalent of getting shot in the nuts for an adult. It was way safer to have them where you could see them.
You're out, little dude.
...and then there's this hot bastard...
-The buzzword of the day was "overwatch", as I found myself with the super-sweet position of being on the second floor, looking out over a huge chunk of the field's activities. If I saw something untoward, I 1.)called it out to any nearby teammates, and 2.) blasted away at it. A home-grown team out of Myrtle Beach were extremely persistent in their aggression. I had several close-quarters slugfests with a few of them.
-Gameplay went back and forth the entire day, and the score was too close to call at any point in the game, so knowing the gameplay was fairly balanced felt good. Gunplay was 99% civil with waves and handshakes afterwards. On one occasion I witnessed a call in doubt which was contained by an enthusiastic referee staff, but only after the dread word: "Shenanigans!" was used by a player...
Hey man, you can't use the s-word around here!-Breaks were about 20 minutes in-between hour long battles, so the flow of everything worked out well, with Kevin checking up on players to get their opinions and reflections. People can't help showing off their gear during that time, especially to freak out the newer players. The guy parked next to me had a gun for every mood swing, but felt that my helmet camera must have cost a fortune. He seemed aghast when I suggested he sell one of his guns to get one.
Breaks also seemed to have me somehow once again surrounded by little kids who wanted to hear some of my stories about magical places where hundreds, if not thousands of players come to one field. And they bring tanks, and wear magnificent costumes, or sometimes even kilts! And did you know that there's this place in New Jersey where you can insert by helicopter? Yep, there's a lot to look forward to, my sons. I love the looks on their faces when I tell them a few war stories...time it just right and I can give them my faraway look of a man who has seen great and terrible deeds.
-Moments of Pure Awesomeness. Every game has them. Let's start with our team of 7-13 year old tenacious weasels:
Seriously...isn't it just adorable?
Seriously...isn't it just adorable?I can't say for sure what kind of kill ratio these little guys racked up, but I'll say one thing for them: they held ground like dug in Carolina ticks! During the final scenarios some guys did the forward push, some guys like me were in a sniper tower raining down paint, but these kids took it upon themselves to sit on a flag station and drill the living hell out of anyone that tried to take it back. Not very exciting, but totally crucial, and they wouldn't leave anyone to flap in the breeze either. More than one compliment was brought back to their father, who clearly couldn't have been prouder. With a little luck, they'll form a team and keep the sport going for another ten years.
-The last game had every man for himself. And that couldn't possibly make you any more paranoid in a room-to-room fighting scenario, could it? Hey everybody, I've had a Red Bull, my adrenaline's cranked, and my gun's got a featherweight trigger...what could go wrong? Some of the last two to hold on were a young player versus Big Army. There was a modest bit of brush between them, too much to shoot through, but enough so they could have a Mexican Standoff. The soldier took a knee on one side, while the young man just stood in a ready crouch. And nobody moved a muscle. Even the refs thought the 5 minute standoff was pretty exciting.
- As for myself, apparently these folks don't have a lot of screaming and shouting at their games, because when I chose to unleash my screechy Battle Cry of Imminent Conflict by bum-rushing a player about to flank me, everyone stopped what they were doing and came my way. Apparently they thought I was badly hurt. Paintball Charleston was nice enough to give me a special deal on antipersonnel grenades... 3 for $10, which you can't beat. The results:
#1. Given to new player, welcoming them to the game.
#2. Hurled into building. 3 players knocked out.
#3. Thrown too high. No effect.
Really, my best time of the whole day was excellent coordination between myself and other players. It's the kind of temporary kinship that had me anonymous in the morning, but having invites by the afternoon. It's worth driving all that way for that kind of teamwork...of course, outmaneuvering some dude and blasting him in the ass is pretty satisfying too.
Awards: Sportsmanship Award, Citation for Meritorious Service.
-The last game had every man for himself. And that couldn't possibly make you any more paranoid in a room-to-room fighting scenario, could it? Hey everybody, I've had a Red Bull, my adrenaline's cranked, and my gun's got a featherweight trigger...what could go wrong? Some of the last two to hold on were a young player versus Big Army. There was a modest bit of brush between them, too much to shoot through, but enough so they could have a Mexican Standoff. The soldier took a knee on one side, while the young man just stood in a ready crouch. And nobody moved a muscle. Even the refs thought the 5 minute standoff was pretty exciting.
- As for myself, apparently these folks don't have a lot of screaming and shouting at their games, because when I chose to unleash my screechy Battle Cry of Imminent Conflict by bum-rushing a player about to flank me, everyone stopped what they were doing and came my way. Apparently they thought I was badly hurt. Paintball Charleston was nice enough to give me a special deal on antipersonnel grenades... 3 for $10, which you can't beat. The results:
#1. Given to new player, welcoming them to the game.
#2. Hurled into building. 3 players knocked out.
#3. Thrown too high. No effect.
Really, my best time of the whole day was excellent coordination between myself and other players. It's the kind of temporary kinship that had me anonymous in the morning, but having invites by the afternoon. It's worth driving all that way for that kind of teamwork...of course, outmaneuvering some dude and blasting him in the ass is pretty satisfying too.
Awards: Sportsmanship Award, Citation for Meritorious Service.
