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Thread: Help please :)

  1. #1

    Question Help please :)

    I have recently purchased the awsome game, Mount and Blade and am reallllllly enjoying it.
    However, i have been told of others mod's for the game and i have seen such, i downloaded one named "100 years War", yet when i came to load it up, i recieved an error message.
    Does anyone have a clue as to why i am unable to play it?
    If this helps, my version is 1.0 Native.
    I have not tried to d/l another mod before, so this one is my first attempt.
    Maybe i am doing something wrong.
    If anyone could shed some light on it i would be greatfull.

  2. #2
    Pape Pie popu (pis grec) Pero Coveilha's Avatar
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    I could be wrong, but I don't remember that this mod, which had been developped over a beta version, has been revamped for the retail version.
    That, or : is your version really 1.0? With the latest patch it should be 1.011 or .013 (depends if you got the game through D/L or on a cd), which is the one actualized mod are adaptated to.
    Les sigs, c'est pour les femmelettes.
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  3. #3
    Quote Originally Posted by Pero Coveilha View Post
    I could be wrong, but I don't remember that this mod, which had been developped over a beta version, has been revamped for the retail version.
    That, or : is your version really 1.0? With the latest patch it should be 1.011 or .013 (depends if you got the game through D/L or on a cd), which is the one actualized mod are adaptated to.
    I purchased the game not d/l it.
    It is 1.0 version as it tells me that on the load up screen.
    How do i make sure i am up to date with the latest patch?
    Should it d/l the patch automatically or do i have to do it manually ?

  4. #4
    Pape Pie popu (pis grec) Pero Coveilha's Avatar
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    Oh, now you're sure you aren't
    I can't check it right now, but IIRC, on the starting box, there's a "check update" button, no? Or you can visit the official site.
    Les sigs, c'est pour les femmelettes.
    Sigs are for sissies

  5. #5

    Thumbs up

    Thanks for the help
    I will check that when i get the chance.

  6. #6

    Question Going Home

    I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village. Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folklore that reappear every few years, to be told a new in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.  They were going to Fort Lauderdalethree boys and three girls and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, dreaming of golden beaches as the gray cold of New York vanished behind them.  As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving, If you need sell cheap wow gold,you can buy wow power leveling on the website: buy wow gold, cheap WoW Power Leveling, sale wow Gold, 1-80 lvl wow power leveling, wotlk gold. his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into some personal cocoon of silence.  Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.  “We're going to Florida,” she said brightly.“ I hear it's really beautiful.”  “It is, ” he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.  “Want some wine?” she said. He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.  In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's,and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches. When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he told his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.  “Are you married?”  “I don't know.”  “You don't know?” she said.  “Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife,” he said. “ I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt too much, well, she could just forget me, I'd understand. Get a new guy, I saidshe‘s a wonderful woman,really somethingand forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me for nothing. And she didn‘t. Not for three and a half years.”  “And you're going home now, not knowing?”  “Yeah,” he said shyly. “ Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her that if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget itno handkerchief, and I'd go on through.”  “Wow,” the girl exclaimed. “Wow.”  She told the others, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. The woman was handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.  Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. The bus acquired a dark, hushed mood, full of the silence of absence and lost years. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con's mask, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.  Then Brunswick was ten miles, and then five. Then,suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.  Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con rose and made his way to the front of the bus to go home

  7. #7
    Hm, hmm, moderator - time for maintenance

  8. #8
    Recruit AlexRo's Avatar

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    this guys should really get a life

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