Jæja, mig langaði að tilkynna Winter-een-mas fyrir ykkur öllum. Þetta er hátíð í desember fyrir gamera byrjuð hjá CAD (ctrlaltdel-online.com). Þetta er sjö daga hátíð þar sem spilaðir eru leikir og skemmt sér yfir þeim.
http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2003-01-27


Twas the night before Winter-een-mas, in one darkened arcade,
From the back came the glow, of a game being played;
The power-ups were mighty, the top score was near,
The gamer grinned wide, for Winter-een-mas was here.

As gamrs ‘round the world waited with anticipation,
Huddled in groups by their favourite game station;
The lone arcade gamer, with eyes lit up bright,
Beat the high score, at the stroke of midnight.

Then from the other machines, there arose such a noise,
The gamer starled and spun, clutching his coins;
As the dark arcade lit up, the gamer swallowed his fear
And watched as the spirits of Winter-een-mas began to appear..

Surrounded by light, they hovered in mid air,
Such breathtaking beauty, he could not help but stare;
He knew them of coourse, all gamers did
And one by one, recognition set in.

The spirit of action and adventure, the platformer great
A hero by name, and an alpha by fate;
With a whip or a gun, or whatever may be,
Nothing stands in his way, with a princess in need.

Along side him he saw, a rather peculiar lad
Quet by nature, with a desire to frag;
First person shooter are his field, his sole expertise
And no one is better, at bringing n00bst to their knees.

And he couldn’t mistake, with his many bruises and scrapes
The one who beats his opponents into intersting shapes;
It's the spirit of fighting games, and what's the reason he drools,
Too many blows to the head, and kicks to the jewels.

Be it a suprise zerfing rush, or skilled micro-management,
Thouh the fog of war, he saw the spirit that could handle it;
Emires had risen and had fallen, under is sole command,
There was just no disguising the real-time strategy fan.

There was the spirit of the racing genre, looking ready to start,
With his googles and racing gloves, and speed in his heart;
In a plane, or a bout, or just a fast automobile,
He's always at home when behind some sort of wheel

And as everyone does, when they vixen of roleplay he saw,
The arcade gamer had to kneel down, to pick up his jaw;
With her mana and hit points, and ten-sided die,
Many fall under her RGP spell, and never know why

And last but not least, the parton of sport games
Ailed by an old football injury, or that's what he claims;
Yard by yard and inning by inning, hear after year,
They say he loves winning… almost as much as beer

They spoke not a word but went straight to their labors
Moving quickly and quietly, without waking the neighbors;
They spread Winter-een-mas joy, and when they were done,
These spirits flew off for seven days of fun

They look to the sky with a whole world of travel,
And gaming spirit to celebrate, to reach the last level;
But as they departed, the lone gamer heard them exclaim…

''A Happy Winter-een-mas to all, and to all a good game!''


Jæja, nú vil ég hvetja ykkur öll til að breiða Winter-een-mas gleðinni og hafa þessa sjö daga heilaga með leikjum. Hún er nú handa ykkur ;)

A Happy Winter-een-mas to all, and to all a good game!

Sagan:
Partur 1: http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2004-01-25
Partur 2: http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2004-01-26
Partur 3: http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2004-01-27
Partur 4: http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2004-01-28
Partur 5: http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2004-01-29
Partur 6: http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2004-01-30
Partur 7: http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/?t=archives&date=2004-01-31