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General Rodolfo Graziani, commander of the Italian army that was invading Ethiopian Ogaden via Somaliland, was a proud Italian man, and therefore was the proud owner of three things. A full moustache, a ridiculous Italian accent, and a jet-black 6000-year-old half-lobster that was perched upon his shoulder. The important thing about this was that the half-lobster was one that was missing its right side. (Cue dramatic, ominous music, zoom in on black lobster.)
The two were riding on top of an armoured car that was speedily speeding through the deserts of the Ogaden, as the Italian Army marched through the same.
“Yes-a! Mya plan-a is working, yes? We shall-a march-e throo this deszurt and reach-a Harer in-a no time!” Graziani exclaimed, clearly showing off his ridiculous Italian accent. He began to twist his moustache evilly.
<Yes-a. March-ing through-a this-a deszurt was-a great-a idea-a, ah? It-a was-a good-a thing-a that-a I-a thought-a up-a of-a this-a plan-a!> remarked Demi-Lobster, who sported an even more ridiculous Italian accent, and worse yet, an even fuller moustache! (Not a half-moustache, as you would expect, but, inexplicably, a whole moustache.) The Demi-Lobster began twisting his moustache too, with his claw, producing a look even more conniving than mere human moustache-twisting could produce. This caused much jealousy on the part of General Rodolfo Graziani, who began to twist his moustache even more to keep up.
“Your-a plan? I-a was-a-da one-a to-a think-a-it-up!” Graziani retorted, who was also trying to keep up with the ridiculousness of Demi-Lobster’s Italian accent.
<You-a? You-a must-a be-a jokingah! Don’t-a you-a remember-a? Three-a months-ago-a?>
“Right-a, I-a remember-a now-a. But-a I-a was-a-da one-a to-a get-a the-a credit-a!”
It was true. Only Graziani knew that the Demi-Lobster was actually six thousand years old, and had telepathic powers. Everyone else just thought that Graziani was crazy for keeping half of a lobster on his shoulder at all times. So whenever the Demi-Lobster thought of a great idea, like dashing through the Ogaden at top speed, Graziani was the one to present it to the Il Duce, and the one to receive all the credit for it. But all that didn’t make Demi-Lobster’s moustache any less impressive. As if spiting Graziani’s still very impressive but not as impressive moustache, Demi-Lobster gave his own moustache another twist, tightening it and giving it the tensile strength of barbed wire. Graziani did the same, but was pushed to the limits of his moustache. The skin above his upper lip felt as if it could tear away any minute. But Graziani didn’t show any pain.
<Take-a-ing-a credit-a for-a nothra’s accomplishments-a is-a not-a much-a to-a be-a proud-a of-a.>
Making his point, Demi-Lobster gave his moustache yet another twist, a very impressive feat indeed. To keep up, Graziani twisted his own moustache even further. Unfortunately, it was a twist too many, and his moustache was ripped clean off of his face.
“My-a moustachi-a! My-a byu-atiful moustachi-a! Look-a wha you may me do, ah? Now-a all-a those-a pictyaz of me-a will-a not-a show-a my-a moustachi-a!”
<It-a is-a notta mia fault-a that-a your-a moustachi-a is-a not-a full-a and-a strong-a as-a mine-a, ah?>
“Why-a you-a half-a lobst-a bast-a!” Graziani yelled furiously.
<Demi-Lobsta! Demi-Lobsta! Mia name-a is-a Demi-Lobsta! Not-a Half-a-Lobsta!> the Demi-Lobster yelled even more furiously, snapping at Graziani’s nose with his one claw.
“Ow-a!” exclaimed Graziani, rubbing his nose. “Don’t-a do-a that-a everragain, you-a hear-a?”
<What-a are-a you-a gonna do-aboutit, ah? If-a it-a weren’t-a for-a mia, you-a would-a not-a evenna be-a here-a!>
“If-a it-a weren’t-a for-a mia-, you-a would-a still-a be-a trapped-a in-a that-a box-a I-a found-a you-a in-a!”
<May-a be-a I-a wish-a I-a was-a never-a freed-a fromma-that-box, if-a I-a knew-a I-a was-a gonna be-a stuck-a with-a you-a!>
“We are-a here, General,” reported the armoured car driver, interrupting the fight before it could get any worse. The driver’s Italian accent was only slight, and his moustache was so spare that it might as well have not been there at all. Which was why he was a mere armoured car driver, while Rodolfo Graziani was a general! Of course, a general could not be seen without his moustache, so Graziani simply held his detached moustache onto his face with the first two fingers of his right hand.
Graziani stepped down from the top of the armoured car with the help of the driver, all the while keeping his moustache pressed against his upper lip. The driver looked at him quizzically.
“Welcome to-a Harer, General Graziani. Though I may be-a impertinent to ask, why do you have-a your hand on your face like that?”
“Why-a, it-a is-a only-a the-a proper-a way-a to-a take-a care-a of-a moustachi-a as-a fine-a as-a this-a one! If-a you-a had-a moustachi-a as-a fine-a as-a mine-a, you-a would-a know, ah?” Graziani twisted his moustache with his left hand for effect, making sure that he didn’t twist too hard, lest it become obvious that his moustache was no longer really attached to his face.
The driver looked down and away in shame. His moustache wasn’t even full enough to brush, much less twist menacingly. Ensaddened, he slunk back into the armoured car.
Now disembarked from the vehicle, Graziani got to look around at Harer, and he noticed one very impoortant thing. It was full of Italian soldiers.
“Wow-a! You-a would-a think-a-dat it-a would-a take-a more-a than-a two-a weeks-a for-an entire-division-a to-a cross-ada Ogaden-a!”
<Yes-a, it-a is-a impressive, ah? But-a don’t-a you-a think-a that-a you-a should-a have-a brought-a more-a than-a one-a militia division, ah?>
“What-a are-a you-a talking-about, you-a sill-a lobst-a! What-a could-a possibly-a go-a wrong-a?”
The two were riding on top of an armoured car that was speedily speeding through the deserts of the Ogaden, as the Italian Army marched through the same.
“Yes-a! Mya plan-a is working, yes? We shall-a march-e throo this deszurt and reach-a Harer in-a no time!” Graziani exclaimed, clearly showing off his ridiculous Italian accent. He began to twist his moustache evilly.
<Yes-a. March-ing through-a this-a deszurt was-a great-a idea-a, ah? It-a was-a good-a thing-a that-a I-a thought-a up-a of-a this-a plan-a!> remarked Demi-Lobster, who sported an even more ridiculous Italian accent, and worse yet, an even fuller moustache! (Not a half-moustache, as you would expect, but, inexplicably, a whole moustache.) The Demi-Lobster began twisting his moustache too, with his claw, producing a look even more conniving than mere human moustache-twisting could produce. This caused much jealousy on the part of General Rodolfo Graziani, who began to twist his moustache even more to keep up.
“Your-a plan? I-a was-a-da one-a to-a think-a-it-up!” Graziani retorted, who was also trying to keep up with the ridiculousness of Demi-Lobster’s Italian accent.
<You-a? You-a must-a be-a jokingah! Don’t-a you-a remember-a? Three-a months-ago-a?>
“Right-a, I-a remember-a now-a. But-a I-a was-a-da one-a to-a get-a the-a credit-a!”
It was true. Only Graziani knew that the Demi-Lobster was actually six thousand years old, and had telepathic powers. Everyone else just thought that Graziani was crazy for keeping half of a lobster on his shoulder at all times. So whenever the Demi-Lobster thought of a great idea, like dashing through the Ogaden at top speed, Graziani was the one to present it to the Il Duce, and the one to receive all the credit for it. But all that didn’t make Demi-Lobster’s moustache any less impressive. As if spiting Graziani’s still very impressive but not as impressive moustache, Demi-Lobster gave his own moustache another twist, tightening it and giving it the tensile strength of barbed wire. Graziani did the same, but was pushed to the limits of his moustache. The skin above his upper lip felt as if it could tear away any minute. But Graziani didn’t show any pain.
<Take-a-ing-a credit-a for-a nothra’s accomplishments-a is-a not-a much-a to-a be-a proud-a of-a.>
Making his point, Demi-Lobster gave his moustache yet another twist, a very impressive feat indeed. To keep up, Graziani twisted his own moustache even further. Unfortunately, it was a twist too many, and his moustache was ripped clean off of his face.
“My-a moustachi-a! My-a byu-atiful moustachi-a! Look-a wha you may me do, ah? Now-a all-a those-a pictyaz of me-a will-a not-a show-a my-a moustachi-a!”
<It-a is-a notta mia fault-a that-a your-a moustachi-a is-a not-a full-a and-a strong-a as-a mine-a, ah?>
“Why-a you-a half-a lobst-a bast-a!” Graziani yelled furiously.
<Demi-Lobsta! Demi-Lobsta! Mia name-a is-a Demi-Lobsta! Not-a Half-a-Lobsta!> the Demi-Lobster yelled even more furiously, snapping at Graziani’s nose with his one claw.
“Ow-a!” exclaimed Graziani, rubbing his nose. “Don’t-a do-a that-a everragain, you-a hear-a?”
<What-a are-a you-a gonna do-aboutit, ah? If-a it-a weren’t-a for-a mia, you-a would-a not-a evenna be-a here-a!>
“If-a it-a weren’t-a for-a mia-, you-a would-a still-a be-a trapped-a in-a that-a box-a I-a found-a you-a in-a!”
<May-a be-a I-a wish-a I-a was-a never-a freed-a fromma-that-box, if-a I-a knew-a I-a was-a gonna be-a stuck-a with-a you-a!>
“We are-a here, General,” reported the armoured car driver, interrupting the fight before it could get any worse. The driver’s Italian accent was only slight, and his moustache was so spare that it might as well have not been there at all. Which was why he was a mere armoured car driver, while Rodolfo Graziani was a general! Of course, a general could not be seen without his moustache, so Graziani simply held his detached moustache onto his face with the first two fingers of his right hand.
Graziani stepped down from the top of the armoured car with the help of the driver, all the while keeping his moustache pressed against his upper lip. The driver looked at him quizzically.
“Welcome to-a Harer, General Graziani. Though I may be-a impertinent to ask, why do you have-a your hand on your face like that?”
“Why-a, it-a is-a only-a the-a proper-a way-a to-a take-a care-a of-a moustachi-a as-a fine-a as-a this-a one! If-a you-a had-a moustachi-a as-a fine-a as-a mine-a, you-a would-a know, ah?” Graziani twisted his moustache with his left hand for effect, making sure that he didn’t twist too hard, lest it become obvious that his moustache was no longer really attached to his face.
The driver looked down and away in shame. His moustache wasn’t even full enough to brush, much less twist menacingly. Ensaddened, he slunk back into the armoured car.
Now disembarked from the vehicle, Graziani got to look around at Harer, and he noticed one very impoortant thing. It was full of Italian soldiers.
“Wow-a! You-a would-a think-a-dat it-a would-a take-a more-a than-a two-a weeks-a for-an entire-division-a to-a cross-ada Ogaden-a!”
<Yes-a, it-a is-a impressive, ah? But-a don’t-a you-a think-a that-a you-a should-a have-a brought-a more-a than-a one-a militia division, ah?>
“What-a are-a you-a talking-about, you-a sill-a lobst-a! What-a could-a possibly-a go-a wrong-a?”
Mustache, goatee... what's the difference? He's still an evil twin (or half) with facial hair.
Hilarious! :rofl:
EDIT: What's THIS? No mustache?? What is this madness??
Hilarious! :rofl:
EDIT: What's THIS? No mustache?? What is this madness??
ThewEiRdOne27 said:
He accidentally tore it off. It's a little-known secret of history that he lost it while competing with his pet half-lobster during the Ethiopian campaign, as anonymous has just revealed.
Zephyr 3 said:He accidentally tore it off. It's a little-known secret of history that he lost it while competing with his pet half-lobster during the Ethiopian campaign, as anonymous has just revealed.
So I've seen... must have been a picture right after the incident.
Crazy semi and demi-lobsters!
I can give you the historical OOB which may save your ass (more regular infantry divisons (slightly weakened) and some souped up militia) but don't come to me for editting advice because I don't know how to edit anything in HOI2 yet!
anonymous4401 said:
a) unlikely. If their intention was to invade they would have done it before we had messy things like nuclear power plants/weapons and an otherwise trashed environment. Rosewell is a big hoax about a weather balloon. Deal with it.
b) highly unlikely. There's an institute of skeptics in Toronto with $1 million in the bank anyone who can prove psychic or prophetic abilities can claim. Guess what? the money's still in the bank. See this link: http://www.csicop.org/ As Mark Twain understood long ago: prophesy is one bullseye after a million tries.
c) also highly unlikely, see b) above. Note Napoleon's famous quote: God tends to be on the side with the larger battalions.
d) Most likely.
The most useful thing the ark could contain would be an ethiopian translation of Sun Zu.
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danoh said:
That assumes whatever aliens we're talking about have known about us for some time. What if they didn't find out about us until all that had already been accomplished? It would take a long time for the radio waves we've been emitting for most of the last century to reach the nearest solar system, and unless the aliens were simply out and about exploring (which, if faster-than-light travel is impossible as is currently believed, seems an unlikely option), how else would they know we were here?
Zephyr 3: Pet lobster? Pet? Demi-Lobster twists his moustache at that offence!
Semi-Lobster: Well, I could edit in a more accurate OOB, but what's the fun in actually having a sliver of a chance of surviving?
danoh:
a) The aliens want sport! That's why they're restricting themselves to WW2 technology. They wait until the planet's dominant species are advanced enough to have fun with, but not so advanced that the aliens are actually threatened.
b) Did they ever try to open the Ark of the Covenant? No. Schrodinger's Cat, for all we know there could be a 6000-year-old half-lobster in there.
c) Actually, Ethiopia had 500,000 soldiers ranging from spear-wielding provincials to Belgian-trained riflemen. The Italians had around 100,000, IIRC. So Ethiopia technically had more battalions.
d) Yeah.
SCORE! Me: 1, You 0!
Semi-Lobster: Well, I could edit in a more accurate OOB, but what's the fun in actually having a sliver of a chance of surviving?
danoh:
a) The aliens want sport! That's why they're restricting themselves to WW2 technology. They wait until the planet's dominant species are advanced enough to have fun with, but not so advanced that the aliens are actually threatened.
b) Did they ever try to open the Ark of the Covenant? No. Schrodinger's Cat, for all we know there could be a 6000-year-old half-lobster in there.
c) Actually, Ethiopia had 500,000 soldiers ranging from spear-wielding provincials to Belgian-trained riflemen. The Italians had around 100,000, IIRC. So Ethiopia technically had more battalions.
d) Yeah.
SCORE! Me: 1, You 0!
anonymous4401 said:danoh:
Heh, guess I should have used more smileys and such
Was just trying to be funny so no worries anonymous. Good luck with your aar and my compliments on taking on such a challenge.
anonymous4401 said:Semi-Lobster: Well, I could edit in a more accurate OOB, but what's the fun in actually having a sliver of a chance of surviving?
Well that depends, do you want an interesting AAR or a long AAR
Also I don't even think a historically accurate OOB would save me so I was going to give myself 'Five Free Random Tech Events', but obviously I never got that far! 
go anonymous4401, go!
let's hear it for the eithipoian underdog..
anyway, surely it is possible for you to repel the italians?
you just need a big pile more of everything that you haven't got at the moment..
men, guns, tech, luck, resources, etc....
(but I know you can do it!)
Heretic
let's hear it for the eithipoian underdog..
anyway, surely it is possible for you to repel the italians?
you just need a big pile more of everything that you haven't got at the moment..
men, guns, tech, luck, resources, etc....
(but I know you can do it!)
Heretic
All of Addis Abbaba was in jubilant celebration as the entire nation seemed to celebrate their latest, and only, major victory against the Italians. Through it all, Haile Sellassie was only thinking of that Semi-Lobster. After all, it was his advice that had led to the victory, where the two militia armies from Dire Dawa and Ginir hit Harer from two sides, forcing Graziani to retreat his division after three days and one hour of fighting. Being with the Imperial Bodyguard stationed in the capital, Sellassie had not seen the fighting personally, but General Hapte Mikael had assured him that the battle had gone well and that the losses were low.
Of course, this meant that either the Semi-Lobster was the real thing, or perhaps it was all a dream? Haile pinched himself, just to make sure. No, he was not dreaming. He was entering the secret chamber under the palace where the Ark of the Covenant was being held. Once more, he opened it up.
The Semi-Lobster was once more inside, and was drawing a map on one of the Ark’s walls with his claw. Similar maps covered the walls and floor. How the Semi-Lobster managed to gain knowledge about the outside world when he said that he did not have any magical powers were anybody’s guess, probably an oversight on the author’s part, or a rather clumsy avoidance of the issue of the limits of the Semi-Lobster’s powers. Either way, he should have written it better.
“Well, Semi-Lobster, delusion or not, you have been giving good advice. Graziani is fleeing back into the Ogaden, and our forces are pursuing!”
<That’s good to hear, Sellassie, but you have to cut off the pursuit,> the Semi-Lobster replied matter-of-factly, not looking up with the map he was drawing with his claw.
Sellassie blinked in surprise. “What? Why?
<Trust me. Behind Harer, the Italians have a modern, professional force that can completely destroy your army just by sneezing. If you retake Harer, the Italians will counterattack, and you will be back to where you started, except in a worse position. The only way to even hold off the Italians for long is to maintain a superior strategic position.>
“Superior strategic position?”
<Yes. Until the Italian army in the east has been weakened enough, or your army has grown enough in strength, you should have your armies maintain their positions and not pursue retreating Italians to recapture lost land. Like this map here.> The Semi-Lobster gestured with his one claw to one of the many maps drawn inside the Ark. It showed the Ethiopian Army in the three provinces of Dire Dawa, Addis Abbaba, and Jima, with red arrows pointing towards Ginir. <Wait, sorry, this map.> He moved his claw to another map, which showed the Ethiopian Army in the three provinces of Dire Dawa, Addis Abbaba, and Ginir, with two red arrows pointing towards Harer. <The very hour that an Italian army sets foot in the province of Harer, you should tell your generals to attack them from Dire Dawa and Ginir, respectively, as you have just did.>
“But my sources tell me that Moyale will be taken in a week. Won’t that leave Jima vulnerable to Italian attack?”
<It would leave Jima vulnerable, but trust me, the Italians will not attempt to take it. They will not try to advance on Jima until their flanks are secured, that is when they have Ginir. I suspect that the Italians will attempt to attack your army in Ginir next.>
“Should I tell my Imperial Army to look for such an attack and rush to Ginir’s aid?”
<No. Let the Italians push your army out of Ginir, and back to Jima. You will gain a superior strategic position that way.>
“I do not see why retreating will give me a superior strategic position.”
<Simple, silly human. The Italian advance in the south will be completely stopped then, as their armies in Harer and Moyale will refuse to advance against your armies in Dire Dawa or Jima, respectively, unless they have Ginir, as I have said. But like Harer, the minute an Italian army steps into Ginir, you will attack with your entire army, driving them out.>
“I have one more question, though. Why have the Italian armies in the north stopped their advance?” It was a valid question. The Italians had taken Gondar, and Adwa, and stopped their advance into northern Ethiopia completely, even though they had more divisions there than they had in the Ogaden. Also, from what his observers in the Denakil told him, the Italians were keeping 6? divisions in Assab, doing absolutely nothing. It was all quite peculiar.
<I don’t know. A fault in the AI, I think. The AI is much too cautious.> In the distance, Sellassie could have sworn that he had heard screaming.
He also didn’t really know what an AI was, but this being the fifth time he had talked to the Semi-Lobster, he was used to the Semi-Lobster talking about things that didn’t make sense to him. He just ignored them and followed the advice on troop movements and such.
<Also, your first militia division will be done in about ten days. Deploy it in Ginir.>
Sellassie nodded to show that he understood. “Well, thank you for your advice, Semi-Lobster. I hope that it is as correct as your advice about Harer. Are you sure that you are okay in there? Personally, if I were stuck in a box for thousands of years and was finally set free, I would have distanced myself from the box as much as possible.”
<My advice is always correct, and no thank you, I’m fine here. You silly humans might not like being trapped in boxes for thousands of years, but we lobsters think different.>
This, of course, was a clear breach of continuity, a grave sin in the art of writing. The Semi-Lobster had, after all, thanked Sellassie for freeing him from the Ark. If he did not really mind the Ark, why would he say such a thing? And another thing, the author has also been very repetitive in this update, and yet another thing, he has just started a sentence with ‘And’. Didn’t the writer learn any grammar at school? I mean, really, starting a sentence with ‘and’, can you believe it? He has also just written a run-on sentence. He clearly should have broken the sentence after the ‘and’. How many rules of grammar will be broken under this writer’s spr-
Sellassie shut the Ark.
Of course, this meant that either the Semi-Lobster was the real thing, or perhaps it was all a dream? Haile pinched himself, just to make sure. No, he was not dreaming. He was entering the secret chamber under the palace where the Ark of the Covenant was being held. Once more, he opened it up.
The Semi-Lobster was once more inside, and was drawing a map on one of the Ark’s walls with his claw. Similar maps covered the walls and floor. How the Semi-Lobster managed to gain knowledge about the outside world when he said that he did not have any magical powers were anybody’s guess, probably an oversight on the author’s part, or a rather clumsy avoidance of the issue of the limits of the Semi-Lobster’s powers. Either way, he should have written it better.
“Well, Semi-Lobster, delusion or not, you have been giving good advice. Graziani is fleeing back into the Ogaden, and our forces are pursuing!”
<That’s good to hear, Sellassie, but you have to cut off the pursuit,> the Semi-Lobster replied matter-of-factly, not looking up with the map he was drawing with his claw.
Sellassie blinked in surprise. “What? Why?
<Trust me. Behind Harer, the Italians have a modern, professional force that can completely destroy your army just by sneezing. If you retake Harer, the Italians will counterattack, and you will be back to where you started, except in a worse position. The only way to even hold off the Italians for long is to maintain a superior strategic position.>
“Superior strategic position?”
<Yes. Until the Italian army in the east has been weakened enough, or your army has grown enough in strength, you should have your armies maintain their positions and not pursue retreating Italians to recapture lost land. Like this map here.> The Semi-Lobster gestured with his one claw to one of the many maps drawn inside the Ark. It showed the Ethiopian Army in the three provinces of Dire Dawa, Addis Abbaba, and Jima, with red arrows pointing towards Ginir. <Wait, sorry, this map.> He moved his claw to another map, which showed the Ethiopian Army in the three provinces of Dire Dawa, Addis Abbaba, and Ginir, with two red arrows pointing towards Harer. <The very hour that an Italian army sets foot in the province of Harer, you should tell your generals to attack them from Dire Dawa and Ginir, respectively, as you have just did.>
“But my sources tell me that Moyale will be taken in a week. Won’t that leave Jima vulnerable to Italian attack?”
<It would leave Jima vulnerable, but trust me, the Italians will not attempt to take it. They will not try to advance on Jima until their flanks are secured, that is when they have Ginir. I suspect that the Italians will attempt to attack your army in Ginir next.>
“Should I tell my Imperial Army to look for such an attack and rush to Ginir’s aid?”
<No. Let the Italians push your army out of Ginir, and back to Jima. You will gain a superior strategic position that way.>
“I do not see why retreating will give me a superior strategic position.”
<Simple, silly human. The Italian advance in the south will be completely stopped then, as their armies in Harer and Moyale will refuse to advance against your armies in Dire Dawa or Jima, respectively, unless they have Ginir, as I have said. But like Harer, the minute an Italian army steps into Ginir, you will attack with your entire army, driving them out.>
“I have one more question, though. Why have the Italian armies in the north stopped their advance?” It was a valid question. The Italians had taken Gondar, and Adwa, and stopped their advance into northern Ethiopia completely, even though they had more divisions there than they had in the Ogaden. Also, from what his observers in the Denakil told him, the Italians were keeping 6? divisions in Assab, doing absolutely nothing. It was all quite peculiar.
<I don’t know. A fault in the AI, I think. The AI is much too cautious.> In the distance, Sellassie could have sworn that he had heard screaming.
He also didn’t really know what an AI was, but this being the fifth time he had talked to the Semi-Lobster, he was used to the Semi-Lobster talking about things that didn’t make sense to him. He just ignored them and followed the advice on troop movements and such.
<Also, your first militia division will be done in about ten days. Deploy it in Ginir.>
Sellassie nodded to show that he understood. “Well, thank you for your advice, Semi-Lobster. I hope that it is as correct as your advice about Harer. Are you sure that you are okay in there? Personally, if I were stuck in a box for thousands of years and was finally set free, I would have distanced myself from the box as much as possible.”
<My advice is always correct, and no thank you, I’m fine here. You silly humans might not like being trapped in boxes for thousands of years, but we lobsters think different.>
This, of course, was a clear breach of continuity, a grave sin in the art of writing. The Semi-Lobster had, after all, thanked Sellassie for freeing him from the Ark. If he did not really mind the Ark, why would he say such a thing? And another thing, the author has also been very repetitive in this update, and yet another thing, he has just started a sentence with ‘And’. Didn’t the writer learn any grammar at school? I mean, really, starting a sentence with ‘and’, can you believe it? He has also just written a run-on sentence. He clearly should have broken the sentence after the ‘and’. How many rules of grammar will be broken under this writer’s spr-
Sellassie shut the Ark.
Well, I don't want to spoil anything, but even without cheating, editing in a more fair OOB, or even getting ridiculously lucky and having a few good random events fire, I have indeed survived past 1937. Unless the Italian AI gains about three hundred IQ points, (It's current IQ: -243 (Aagh! Unnecessary Greengrocers' apostrophes!!!)), I will survive until the allies declare war upon it, or I join the allies, or whatever. Then Italy will get SERVED.
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danoh: Sure you are.
Semi-Lobster: Due to my superior strategic strategies, this AAR will be both long AND interesting. Hopefully not too long, or else it will distract from my Victoria Ethiopia AAR, which all of you should read now. Hopefully I'll get in another update today.
Heretic: By God, man! Learn to spell Ethiopian right!
Semi-Lobster: Due to my superior strategic strategies, this AAR will be both long AND interesting. Hopefully not too long, or else it will distract from my Victoria Ethiopia AAR, which all of you should read now. Hopefully I'll get in another update today.
Heretic: By God, man!
Learn to spell Ethiopian right!
Graziani stood alone, in the centre of an empty room, as he awaited his conversation with the leader of the Italian Fascist government, Benito Mussolini. Even Demi-Lobster was nowhere to be seen, though he did give Graziani some tips a few minutes before. Graziani’s right hand was pressed to his upper lip, keeping his moustache on his face. If Mussolini were to find out about the fact that he no longer had a moustache...
Just then, Mussolini’s visage could be seen in the centre of the room, glowing with an unholy light. It was a hologram of the Duce, the method that he preferred to converse with his generals. Graziani had seen the phenomenon a few times before.
“My-a lord-a!” Graziani shouted as he prostrated himself and averted his eyes from the centre of Mussolini’s face. For Benito Mussolini owned a moustache so perfect, so expertly groomed, and so easily twistable that mortal men were not deserving to look upon it. He also possessed an Italian accent so ridiculous that it was completely incomprehensible, even to an Italian like himself.
“Gafjdk fkaghhj dkfhsfd hjkhov, Graziani. Jdks uanp jk dfs vcnx ejrf gkh slero?” (Translation: Good morning, General Graziani. What news do you have from the front?)
“It-a is-a going-a-very-good, sir! Our-a advance is-a proceeding-a rapidly.”
“Qwghllm,” Mussolini grunted annoyedly. (Translation: I know of your recent failures, Graziani, do not lie to me. I am very disappointed in these recent developments, and in you, General. You should have been marching into Addis Abbaba by now, instead of being stuck in the Ogaden! You should have seized Ginir and held onto it, not leave a defence too weak to stand up to an Ethiopian counterattack! You have failed me for the last time!)
Graziani’s left hand suddenly grabbed his throat, and began choking it. Graziani was also levitating, for some odd reason. If he hadn’t been so busy screaming, he would have heard a scream off in the distance. As Graziani’s face began to change colours, it became harder and harder for him to concentrate on keeping his moustache pressed onto his face with his right hand. His face slowly turned red, then blue, then a ghostly white, as Mussolini expected.
But Graziani’s face kept turning colours. After turning white, it turned orange, then yellow, then green, then orange again, and kept changing into all sorts of colours a face should not turn into, even when it was being choked. When Graziani’s face turned a black-and-red checkerboard pattern, Mussolini stepped back in surprise and incredulity, breaking his hold on Graziani.
“WTF!?!?!?” Mussolini could be heard yelling. (Translation: WTF!?!?!?) He called for a drink (‘Hry zr s ftoml,’ he said to his aides,) and began to recover from what he had just seen.
Meanwhile, Graziani was gasping for breath, wondering why the Il Duce had spared him. He normally did not spare generals that had failed him. Perhaps he was not a complete failure. It took a few minutes for Graziani to recover from his near-death, and just as long for Mussolini to decide that he would never speak of Graziani’s face turning into a checkerboard ever again.
“I-a...thank-a....you-a....for-a....sparing-a....my-a....life-a.....sir....” Graziani gasped, the first words he said after he was freed from Mussolini’s mind-choke.
“Kidy fp mpy aor yp zr shsom, Hrmrtsa.” (Translation: I would like more monkeys. Give the alarm clock a celery bath at noon tomorrow. Or, alternatively: Just do not lie to me again, General.)
“Thank-a you-a sir. But-a I-a was-a not-a lying-a. Even-a though-a we-a have-a had-a some-a setbacks, we-a are-a moving forward. My-a forces have-a taken Ginir once-a again, and-a they-a are-a attacking Dire Dawa as-a we-a speak-a. Ethiopia’s army-a will-a be-a outflanked-a, and-a victory-a will-a be-a ours-a!”
Mussolini raised an eyebrow in interest.
“Sd zu htrsy-htrsy-htsmfgsyjrt idrf yp dsu yp zr, pmr fsu, apmh shp, yjrtr esd sm paf zsm om yjr eppfd s apmh yozr shp, smf jr etpyr s qprz yjsy ermy aolr yjod:
Zpyjrt, zpyjrt, pj jrstyardd zpyrt,
Jpe vpiaf upi ytrsy zr dp?
Gpt zsmu urstd O jsbr esmfrtrf yjr eptaf,
Drstvjomh gpt dpzryjomh O vpiaf mpy jsbr.
O jsbr saesud lrqy yjsy om zu jrsty. Nu yjr esu, zslr ditr yp idr gtrdj vrartu. Yjr sastz vapvl mrrfd yp nr nsyjrf om gtrdj vrartu. Pmr yozr, pmr pg zu sofrd nsyjrf zu sastz vapvl om paf vrartu, smf O jsf jod zpidysvjr vaoqqrf pgg!”
(Translation: Good.)
“Thank-a you-a sir.” Graziani was genuine. “Italy-a will-a be-a victoria-ous.”
Mussolini trembled one last time, “Ep mpy gsoa zr shsom, Hrmrtsa. Badp, royjrt htpe s mre zpidysvjr pt trsyysvj yjsy pmr dpzrjpe.”
(Translation: Do not fail me again, General. Also, either grow a new moustache or reattach that one somehow.)
It was then that Graziani realized that his moustache had slipped. Silently, he cursed himself. Then the hologram blinked out, and Graziani was alone in the room. Except, of course, for one person.
<So-a, how-a did-a-it go-a?> asked the Demi-Lobster.
“Considering-a that-a I-a am-a still-alive, pretty-a good-a.”
Just then, Mussolini’s visage could be seen in the centre of the room, glowing with an unholy light. It was a hologram of the Duce, the method that he preferred to converse with his generals. Graziani had seen the phenomenon a few times before.
“My-a lord-a!” Graziani shouted as he prostrated himself and averted his eyes from the centre of Mussolini’s face. For Benito Mussolini owned a moustache so perfect, so expertly groomed, and so easily twistable that mortal men were not deserving to look upon it. He also possessed an Italian accent so ridiculous that it was completely incomprehensible, even to an Italian like himself.
“Gafjdk fkaghhj dkfhsfd hjkhov, Graziani. Jdks uanp jk dfs vcnx ejrf gkh slero?” (Translation: Good morning, General Graziani. What news do you have from the front?)
“It-a is-a going-a-very-good, sir! Our-a advance is-a proceeding-a rapidly.”
“Qwghllm,” Mussolini grunted annoyedly. (Translation: I know of your recent failures, Graziani, do not lie to me. I am very disappointed in these recent developments, and in you, General. You should have been marching into Addis Abbaba by now, instead of being stuck in the Ogaden! You should have seized Ginir and held onto it, not leave a defence too weak to stand up to an Ethiopian counterattack! You have failed me for the last time!)
Graziani’s left hand suddenly grabbed his throat, and began choking it. Graziani was also levitating, for some odd reason. If he hadn’t been so busy screaming, he would have heard a scream off in the distance. As Graziani’s face began to change colours, it became harder and harder for him to concentrate on keeping his moustache pressed onto his face with his right hand. His face slowly turned red, then blue, then a ghostly white, as Mussolini expected.
But Graziani’s face kept turning colours. After turning white, it turned orange, then yellow, then green, then orange again, and kept changing into all sorts of colours a face should not turn into, even when it was being choked. When Graziani’s face turned a black-and-red checkerboard pattern, Mussolini stepped back in surprise and incredulity, breaking his hold on Graziani.
“WTF!?!?!?” Mussolini could be heard yelling. (Translation: WTF!?!?!?) He called for a drink (‘Hry zr s ftoml,’ he said to his aides,) and began to recover from what he had just seen.
Meanwhile, Graziani was gasping for breath, wondering why the Il Duce had spared him. He normally did not spare generals that had failed him. Perhaps he was not a complete failure. It took a few minutes for Graziani to recover from his near-death, and just as long for Mussolini to decide that he would never speak of Graziani’s face turning into a checkerboard ever again.
“I-a...thank-a....you-a....for-a....sparing-a....my-a....life-a.....sir....” Graziani gasped, the first words he said after he was freed from Mussolini’s mind-choke.
“Kidy fp mpy aor yp zr shsom, Hrmrtsa.” (Translation: I would like more monkeys. Give the alarm clock a celery bath at noon tomorrow. Or, alternatively: Just do not lie to me again, General.)
“Thank-a you-a sir. But-a I-a was-a not-a lying-a. Even-a though-a we-a have-a had-a some-a setbacks, we-a are-a moving forward. My-a forces have-a taken Ginir once-a again, and-a they-a are-a attacking Dire Dawa as-a we-a speak-a. Ethiopia’s army-a will-a be-a outflanked-a, and-a victory-a will-a be-a ours-a!”
Mussolini raised an eyebrow in interest.
“Sd zu htrsy-htrsy-htsmfgsyjrt idrf yp dsu yp zr, pmr fsu, apmh shp, yjrtr esd sm paf zsm om yjr eppfd s apmh yozr shp, smf jr etpyr s qprz yjsy ermy aolr yjod:
Zpyjrt, zpyjrt, pj jrstyardd zpyrt,
Jpe vpiaf upi ytrsy zr dp?
Gpt zsmu urstd O jsbr esmfrtrf yjr eptaf,
Drstvjomh gpt dpzryjomh O vpiaf mpy jsbr.
O jsbr saesud lrqy yjsy om zu jrsty. Nu yjr esu, zslr ditr yp idr gtrdj vrartu. Yjr sastz vapvl mrrfd yp nr nsyjrf om gtrdj vrartu. Pmr yozr, pmr pg zu sofrd nsyjrf zu sastz vapvl om paf vrartu, smf O jsf jod zpidysvjr vaoqqrf pgg!”
(Translation: Good.)
“Thank-a you-a sir.” Graziani was genuine. “Italy-a will-a be-a victoria-ous.”
Mussolini trembled one last time, “Ep mpy gsoa zr shsom, Hrmrtsa. Badp, royjrt htpe s mre zpidysvjr pt trsyysvj yjsy pmr dpzrjpe.”
(Translation: Do not fail me again, General. Also, either grow a new moustache or reattach that one somehow.)
It was then that Graziani realized that his moustache had slipped. Silently, he cursed himself. Then the hologram blinked out, and Graziani was alone in the room. Except, of course, for one person.
<So-a, how-a did-a-it go-a?> asked the Demi-Lobster.
“Considering-a that-a I-a am-a still-alive, pretty-a good-a.”
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The spacing of Mussolini's speech and its translation could have been better handled. I might edit in more spaces later to make it more smooth.
Speaking of smooth, due to the recent explosion of screenshots in my AAR, I have thumbnail-ized them. Hope you don't mind. Of course, I don't see what that has to do with smoothness...
Thanks for the compliments, everyone.
Speaking of smooth, due to the recent explosion of screenshots in my AAR, I have thumbnail-ized them. Hope you don't mind. Of course, I don't see what that has to do with smoothness...
Thanks for the compliments, everyone.