Sennex

No, the EMP just scrambles the map, and stops communications from being passed.

holy fucking shit! If you have a commander, then please god hit Affirmative when you get an order to hit a point. Its one of the few ways that commanders get points, and it lets them know that at least one squad isn't a bag of dicks. Who knows you might get showered with promotions, Resupplies, and vehicle drops.

Commander mode Siege of Shanghai Dropped a Cruise Missile on C Flag, got a kill. COOL! a minute or so goes by, get Cruise missile back again, Losing A Flag, drop a UAV, See a Tank, a shit ton of dorito's, and some other vehicle sitting there. Drop an EMP UAV, Drop the Cruise Missile, No warning cause of the EMP. Anti-Vehicle Ribbon, and like 6 or more names scrolled by.

You can swap teams unless an admin disallows it. other than that, great story. I hate Pussy Assed Recon, and will drop those towers fast if I am able once they go up there. Also, on that map if you want fun, Grab the MAA from B when you can. Run back to A with it, and if you sit on the side road from A - B, just in the shadow of hte building, you can spray that whole thing with Zoom Optics and the 30mm cannon. Aim high though, and you can end up sweeping it clear of Pussy Assed Recon in about two bursts

NVM, found it 239.57 was mine

This One of the biggest things to remember is that if you look at your work week, commute time, and number of hours you sleep, etc, then most of us will spend more time with our coworkers than with our Significant other and kids. So yes, you TOTALLY need to at least enjoy the people you work with. I love to write, I don't really do any writing anymore though. The money isn't there, the people suck, the atmosphere/ industry is toxic for what I did. Hell, My wife and I ended up in counselling because of my writing and the stress I was under. Now I sit back and write SQL all day. I hate the company I work for, genuinely hate it.However, my boss is amazing, the DBA I work with is actually one of my real honest to god, "Not just help bury a body, but help kill the bastard" friends. If it wasn't for them, I would hate what I was doing, but I get paid pretty decently for the area (Sadly not the industry), and I go to work everyday knowing I will have a blast. The money from this crappy company means I can do silly shit, like buy my son a Compound Bow. Or drive his happy butt to the Comic book shop to spend money on random crap.

I really wish that the Activision folks would recognize that they essentially have a sports game set in a military background here and start doing more of a Madden style game. CoD:2015 Keep all maps as what they are, but allow them to be played across versions. It wouldn't be hard to track who has what version of the game and allow the access to only the maps that you own. Ditch the Campaign other than as a short "Intro/ Training Camp" (It does bother me to type this as MW1 and MW2 were what got me into Console FPS because of the campaign) Stop patching the game mid "Season" instead do honest long term studies of weapon stats/ usage, and then tweak every new release. //wishful thinking end

I thought that this was gonna be pics of your man cave or something LOL

Link to the original: http://imgur.com/gallery/9qERv (Jet Porn behind each Spoiler Tag) There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane—intense, maybe, even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment. It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot who asked Center for a read-out of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground." Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios. Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed in Beech. "I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed." Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. "Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check." Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a read-out? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: "Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground." And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done—in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it—the click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground." I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money." For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, "Roger that Aspen. Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one." It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out. Sled Driver : Flying the World's Fastest Jet

Okay, no big, I will PM it too you then, its a valid question, and I didnt know that about you and PPR's

Dammit, I am painting half of my house this weekend. No chance I will be able to play. Damn my luck

Yea, I try to ignore the "fixed" part of that whole conversation. That might be what got my back up the most on it About the Autism scale though, I will jump over to my PPR. I don't want to derail this much more.

2 week delay announced for the Xbox version to get more polished. Will post a link to the article here soon, unless someone beats me to it

For Tekkit , or Tekkit Classic? For Tekkit, yes For Tekkit Classic, not that I have seen.

Stop aiming at feet

I am going to try to get a Cabin up in North GA, have a whole Astronomy vacation for him. Maybe Huntsville AL where the Rocket Center for Nasa is.

The tosser is playing Single Player.

This happens everytime I spawn on a squadmate Crazyness, I need to pay more attention then LOL

I appreciate it, but damn do I feel bad for this. IDK if that makes sense, but shit man. Even hours later I feel like a prick. I know I did the right thing, but still

I've never seen shotties on my Engi weapon select screen. Its possible I over looked it, but Idk now.

One of the best Single player FPS series I have ever played. http://www.gog.com/news/release_stalker_series Should be about $15.00 for all three, I seriously recommend you guys grab it.

So, yea, I am sitting here raging, and I am not sure if its justified or not. So, as some of you guys might remember, my son is Autistic. We have had a butt-ton of issues with local bullies, the school, and neighbors. It's just not been good. Needless to say my wife and I are protective. Here is why I am raging: I have an uncle who offered to pay for my son to go to Disney with my parents. My dad hasn't seen his brother in a few years. My dad also helps with Homeschooling my son (He teaches Math and History). I tried to reach out to my uncle today to talk about the concerns that my wife and I have. We were honestly considering letting him go. My son has some days where he is able to tune out/ filter himself from too much activity really well. However he always needs a day of "safety" afterwards where everything is low key and he can decompress in his space. On those safety days, someone would need to chill with him in the hotel room, letting him do his own thing. So anyway, I reach out. I immediately get shut down in my trying to explain a few things about my son. I then get told off, and how my son was only invited because he doesn't take up any space, and how my uncle only wanted to see his brother. I replied with "Well thanks for the offer, but no thank you, My son won't be going." Thats when I get cursed at with shit like this: "My son, your cousin, is also Autistic, I know what to do and how to handle this. He's going to be a goddamned comedian after we were able to fix him" All I could say was "Wow, You have a nice day" and then I hung up. ......... My phone won't stop ringing with family calling me. Why the fuck even make the offer, if you are going to be an ass about it. If its a bad time to talk, then say that, and reschedule But to be fucking rude about something important like this? To blow off and claim to have 'fixed" someone thats autistic. My wife said that this was the best possible outcome though, because now we know, from that one moment of honesty that it was not a good idea for my son to go on that trip. Still, I sit here with the knowledge of knowing I denied my son a trip to Disney that he would have enjoyed a portion of.

The sad part for you though is no Good deed goes unpunished. you need to stop giving to folks bro, your karma is all jacked up, and it keeps biting you in the ass

My son and I do this. Just sent a college kid a bunch of Green Lantern stuff, Food, and Gift Cards. Literally just sent it all out yesterday. (My son picked out the Green Lantern stuff) I prefer gift cards because they can be used for anything. The food was really of the junk variety, gum, gummi bears, etc. Things that never really get old or go unused. I started doing this with my son because I want him to have a better understanding of empathy and helping other. We found the kid on Reddit, where I find a large portion of the folks we send stuff to. We used to do Care packages to members serving in units under various active family members. That stopped though as most are all home.

I don't really collect anything anymore. I used to collect old Books. Also Comic books, movies, Magic the Gathering Cards, RPG books, but that all stopped. My only real hobby is playing video games