World Cup 64 RP Thread

by **New Montreal States** » Thu Mar 21, 2013 1:28 am

World Cup 64 Main Thread
Proud to be the only international football tournament not in the pockets of match-fixers!

Wight and NMS welcome you to the 64th Nationstates Football World Cup! Post your RPs here.

Cutoff for the 3rd place match will be Wednesday at 22:00 BST, 21:00 UTC/GMT, 17:00 EDT, 14:00 PDT. Cutoff for the final will be on Thursday at the same time.

3rd Place Match @ South Lawn, Spit

Darmen vs. Osarius

Final @ the Paladin Dome, New Montreal

Audioslavia vs. Andossa Se Mitrin Vega

The Semifinals

Quarterfinal pairings

Things from the R16:

New Montreal States' Stadium details:

Things from the Group Stages:

Things from the Playoffs:

Things from Qualifiers:

Scores are posted here
Roster thread (Still not too late to post one, if you haven't already!)
The official list of referees is here.
OOC discussion goes here.

by **Wight** » Thu Mar 21, 2013 2:08 am

Wight Information

This is a cursory guide only - please feel free to TG me for any further information you may need.

The small volcanic island archipelago of Wight in AO is in fact an approximate scale copy – or interpretation might be a better word – of the Uncertain Dimensions in which Búa lives. Before a catastrophic earthquake destroyed much of the land and sculpted out new dramatic features, the empty landmass of Köselî Cumhuriyetler was once home to a turkish empire, since gone to dust. Locals often refer to this version of Wight as Simulacra or The Broken Islands.

The country is governed by a benevolent dictator, Jean Baptiste, recently elected by a 100% margin with no opposition candidates and a 0.001% voter turnout. The election flyers didn't arrive back from the printers in time to let the public know there was going to be an election, so only the printer and a couple of his employees actually voted.

The population of the archipelago is recorded at 230,023. Most of the mountainous and volcanic interior of the main Wightling landmass is unpopulated apart from the town of Campus and several small hamlets. 97% of the population live on the coast and surrounding islands. The capital Spit is the only designated city, with a population of around 50,000 or nearly a quarter of the entire population.

Wight recently struck a strategic alliance with one of the region's superpowers, giving over a large area of land on the southerly island of Wath to the military forces of Andossa Se Mitrin Vega, in exchange for a peppercorn per year in perpetuity as rent and vigorous defence of the islands in times of conflict. ASMV is presently constructing facilities for a large combined forces base including harbour, fortified town and airstrip.

In recent months, Wight has annexed the collapsed state of neighbouring Septentrionia, which have been anglicised as the Septen Islands. In due course the islands will become part of the greater Wightling Commonwealth, with open travel between it and Wight. Presently, while Wight - supported by ASMV - restores order and harmony to the islands, they are closed to visitors and journalists. For their own safety, of course.

Wight has a long and proud tradition of being enthusiastic but not very good at football, although in recent years, back-to-back semi-final appearances in the AOCAF championships, two Cup of Harmony semi-finals, two Di Bradini finals with a title and two World Cup qualifications suggest the Wightlings may be breaking from that tradition. For all that, football is still strictly amateur in the broken islands.

Stadia

Being a small nation only just getting on top of the clean-up of the devastating Wight Catastrophe of eight years ago, and playing amateur football, the stadia are mostly on the modest side, to say the least. Only the Tricorn Arena, the national stadium built for hosting a number of Turori's Cup of Harmony 53 matches, was approaching international standard prior to Wight's host bid with New Montreal States for Cup of Harmony 54. Fans fearing trips to the bleak and remote stadia described as 'interesting', 'minimal', & 'bleak and remote', need not fear. In an emergency building plan, a number of new permanent and temporary stadia were constructed to surprising acclaim. The capital city Spit will host most of the competition with no less than five permanent and temporary stadia. Other host towns are Despite, Pompeii and Icke.

Matches are likely to be well attended by the locals, so it will be common for the capacities to be reached.

Group E: Spit Lawns: South Lawn for the first listed match, North Lawn for the second.
Group F: Tricorn Arena for the first listed match, The Mausoleum for the second.
Group G: The Ramparts for the first listed match, Mutlitudinous Arena for the second.
Group H: The Canvasdome for the first listed match, Thin Air Stadium for the second.

SOUTH LAWN, in Spit
National Stadium
Capacity 45,310
NORTH LAWN, in Spit
Home of Spit City
Capacity 38,422

The impressive twin stadia of Spit Lawns, built on the site of the old Spit Leisure Centre or the Lezzy, as it was known, is in the Looe district of the city. This is being lauded as the finest and most reliable construction project in the Broken Islands short history. A pair of stadiums side by side, the South Arena is the national stadium, while the North Arena has become the third home of Spit City.

TRICORN ARENA, in Spit
Home of Penchant Wanderers
Capacity 43,023

Built by infamously drab Polarian architect Jens Christiansen, two additional jerry-rigged temporary stands for 18,000 additional spectators will almost double the usual capacity of the stadium. A smaller 8,000 version was burned down by Kinitarian fans during Cup of Harmony 53, but builders have assured the NSWC committee that the current additions are flame retardant. The Tricorn Arena is in the Penchant district of Spit, and now hosts Broken Islands club Penchant Wanderers.

THE MAUSOLEUM, in Spit
Home of Looe Sewage Works FC
Capacity 32,908

Named for the giant stadium up in Old Wight, where two million and twenty three dead souls could pack the stands to watch Wight play home matches back in the Uncertain Dimensions, before the team moved to the more material AO version of Wight. The new Mausoleum is a rather more modest affair, a wooden construction on the harbourside in Spit. In the foreground of this artists impression of the currently-under-construction stadium, we can see the aft of the historic Wightling Armada Ship-of-the-Line Stalemate. Planned as a temporary stadium that would become a museum, it is now the home of Looe Sewage Works FC.

THE RAMPARTS, in Spit
A temporary stadium
Capacity 26,751

One of three temporary stadia for the Cup of Harmony 54 tournament, The Ramparts are built under the walls of Spit Fort, a granite reconstruction of Búa's palace in Wight Spit, in the Uncertain Dimensions. Here we see an image of the stadium under construction, with one end stand still to be erected and the pitch to be laid. Rumours that the stadium is too confined to fit a legal sized football pitched within are hotly denied by the organisers.

MULTITUDINOUS ARENA, in Despite
Temporary structure, home of Despite Palace
Capacity 34,095

Local team Despite Palace were rather hoping to gain a brand new stadium out of the Cup of Harmony 54 hosting, but were disappointed when the municipal council refused planning permission for anything but a temporary stadium in the town. Covered by large plastic sheeting, this bolt-together ground can be erected or dismantled in a fortnight. Strangely enough it hasn't come down yet and Palace are enjoying their 'temporary' tenancy.

THE CANVASDOME, in Icke
Temporary structure, home of Icke Town FC
Capacity 26,414

Despite having a tidy ground of their own in Icke with a decent capacity by Wightling standards, the Turques - Icke Town FC - agreed to occupy the Canvasdome after the Cup of Harmony 54. A greenwood spar structure, covered, unsurprisingly, by canvas, this temporary stadium could potentially last 30 years although it will have to be re-covered every two.

THIN AIR STADIUM, in Pompeii
Home of AFC Portsmouth
Capacity 33,856

The only permanent new stadium outside of the capital, financially mismanaged AFC Portsmouth were delighted that a brand new stadium was built for them by the Wightling Cup of Harmony committee. The rent is allegedly be one peppercorn per year in perpetuity, though critics of the club claim they will probably manage to default even on that. The origin of the name of the stadium remains a mystery although many claim it is the only way the club could build a new home, by magicking it out of thin air.

by **Apox** » Thu Mar 21, 2013 6:27 am

An Adventure In Old Guard - Part One

It was an incredibly boring day in Old Guard for Clement Ashley, with little to no news ever happening. He sat in his rented apartment, drinking whiskey from a small glass and staring outside at the lack of activity happening in the dock as the country was having their 4 hour siesta during the heat of the middle of the day. Well, it wasn't exactly hot, it was just the people of Old Guard were lazy.

He'd been in Old Guard for 2 weeks now, and couldn't say he was impressed. Nothing ever happened, and there was no work for him to do. Luckily, everything was dirt cheap here, so money wasn't too much of a problem yet. The only problem was the lack of things to do and the dearth of community, something that was starkly different from Apox.

His measly blog was the only thing keeping him going now, after he was fired from the Apoxian Word for his final article there, a highly controversial article on why the people of Mona weren't really Apoxian and shouldn't be allowed to compete in Apoxian Leagues. It hadn't gone down well, and he'd been sacked by lunchtime on the day it was published, with him being branded a traitor to the Apoxian press. He still occasionally read the Apoxian Word, mainly to see who they'd appointed as his replacement, eventually the post of Chief Sports writer going to Victor Atrastain, a worrying posh and smug writer who poured out such a high volume of drivel that it threatened to drown the entire Word.

After a few more minutes of quiet reflection, interspersed with the odd knap or two, he finally got up to see if there was anything happening that day at in Oldem. I mean, the city had 30,000 people in it, someone must be doing something.

*****

Jon Quillisi was also stuck in Old Guard, although for different reasons. He'd been travelling to see his old friend, Ken Rickwright, manager of Old Guard national football team, and had been in Old Guard since the conflict started, with the AFB advising him to stay out of the way and out of trouble. It was part of the plan the government had had, evacuating celebraties and other wealthy people out of the country, mostly to Old Guard to avoid the war and the problems it was having in Apox.

So he'd been stuck here, lounging about in Ken's spacious apartment, seeing the odd football game, helping out with the team. It hadn't been that bad really, although he was now missing doing things, missing his son, Armando Quillisi, who had recently signed a contract with Urbanista and had been playing quite well, breaking into the first team from the 3rd game of the season at the age of just 19. He'd been a proud dad, and had made sure to keep in contact with him at least once a week whilst he'd been here.

Having grown bored of the daytime drivel that pretended to be TV on the two channels available in Old Guard, he got up and after telling Ken he was heading out for the afternoon, he went off for a wander of Oldem and to see what was going on.

*****

Dravid Scott was also stuck in this bloody country. He'd been prepared to settle down in Barbury after his retirement to have a couple of quiet years while he worked out what he wanted to do with his life. Then this had come along.

The AFB had contacted many famous past footballers and told them it would be in their interests to leave. He'd left, nto that he'd wanted too. Old Guard was all right, and occasionally he saw his old friends Jon Quillisi and Ken Rickwright wandering around in Oldem, but the country was still useless. An idiotic excuse of a country full of weird people who didn't seem to do much.

The person he'd met who was quite interesting was the King, Iskander the Third, who'd gone down to the pub with Ken, who somehow he'd become mates with in the past. It was odd how a king could just go down to the pub like that, but he'd appeared to be quite a normal person. His bodyguard the SPECTRE was weird though, but he wouldn't want to mess with him, so Dravid supposed he was doing a good job.

He turned off the TV, and walked over to the window, but before he got there, he was halted by his phone buzzing violently in his pocket. It was his local agent in Old Guard, phoning him to ask why he was late for his meeting. His was late because he didn't care, although perhaps he should still put in an appearance to make it seem like he still cared. He turned around, put on his coat and walked out of the door.

by **Barunia** » Thu Mar 21, 2013 10:01 pm

Prologue

Pacifique Tsebo
The sun was just starting to show over the horizon as Tsebo woke up. Getting out of bed, he almost tripped over his suitcase on the floor. That reminded him: he was leaving today. He didn't know when he'd return, only that he'd been called. So know he was ready. Well, not quite.

Hanging on the door was his shirt. In the early morning gloom he could just make out the colours. Sky-blue, white and red. The same colours as the flag. Picking the uniform up, his hands traced the yellow sun emblem on the breast. The sun, giver of light. He'd come from the darkness, a world of eternal blackness, before the light had come. Born with a degenerative eye condition, he'd gone blind at he age of twelve. He'd spent three years in darkness, three years without football, without light. The he'd been brought to Barunia for surgery, and his sight had been restored. Once again he'd found his joy in football, and the country that had given him his eyes again, now gave him another gift.

Turning the shirt over, he read the writing, printed in red letters. Pacifique. His preferred name. Beneath the name, the number 29. Now his lucky number. His number, on his shirt. Pacifique's second greatest gift had been the honour to represent his adopted nation, playing the sport he loved. With the World Cup looming, he would once again have a chance to wear the sky-blue of Barunia.

Stephen Wiggens
Wiggens stood a his window, watching the sun rise over the ocean. Today was the day the Suns began their preparations for the World Cup. This was his opportunity, one he could not fail to miss. There was a long road ahead of them, and he would need all the time he had to make the team ready. Unlike the Baptism of Fire, they would be up against teams with real experience. Perhaps even champions.

by **Qazox** » Thu Mar 21, 2013 10:44 pm

Sometimes you can do everything right, and it still turns out like shit. Especially when you're one of those people whom bad luck follows you around like a young duckling that imprinted on you. It all started about seven days ago...

seven days earlier...

I was delivering a television to an upscale neighborhood, as I work for RESCo. (Rockport Expedited Shipping Company), and the largest portion of our clientele live in either gated communities or in this case a 2 million Zaq ($1,000,000) house about 45 minutes south of SaxerVilla. The owner, some douchebag that makes more a month than I do a year, sent out his son to sign for the delivery. Of course, the kid's like 13/14 years old, and per company policy; I need someone over the age of consent (16 in Qazox), to sign for it. So the kid heads back into the house and after a 15 minute wait or so, the guy finally comes out and signs for it. I give him his copy of the delivery receipt, and head to the back of the truck to begin unloading this guy's 65" flat-screen.

I follow the kid into the house and into a room off to the side of the foyer. Of course there's no place to put the t.v. as there's stacks of boxes filling up most of the room. I asked the kid where the tv's going, as I'm also an installer for RESCo. He points to the far wall. For the next 30 minutes I move enough boxes to recreate Hadrian's Wall and finally can get to work installing. After another 20 minutes, I get the t.v. mounted and was just about to hook up the tv to Q-Dish, when my lunch from Burrito King starts acting up. I stumble my way past the boxes and try to find someone who can point me towards a bathroom.

As I walk down the hall back to the foyer, I run into the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Movie star face, a nice ass, perky breasts, the whole 9 yards. I'm momentarily stunned at the sight, until my colon reminded me why I need a bathroom and I farted as loud as an elephant bellow. Did I mention that I have the worst luck in the world, cause I do. I hastily apologize and ask for the nearest bathroom. She snickered a bit and pointed me towards the kitchen. After taking care of business, I start back towards the room to finish up my installation. Then every thing turned to shit...

by **Khytenna** » Fri Mar 22, 2013 8:10 am

RNC:SPORTS

World Cup 64 Qualifers! and squad guide

its that time again where the stripes, the Khytenna national team will battle it out for a place in the world cup in Wight and New Montreal states, times have been tough of late for the National side, with bad performances in the world cup, Cup of Harmony and the AOCAF, Khytenna need to get their act together if they are to preform like they used to.

With the announcement of the world cup squad the other day, RNC has decided to put together a small squad guide to talk about who we feel will feature in the line-ups for the up coming qualifiers (and friendlies if they are arranged)

Goal keepers

Roary Troy awesome performance in goal for Blue bay last session means that he will certainly be the number one choice in the upcoming games, Leo Hay will probably be the bench warmer, with Cuyler in reserves, although Cuyler has shown himself to be a fantastic keeper at late.

Defenders

Oliver Testerman will be starting as captain (definitely in qualifiers) he plays a fast game and can bring a sence of urgency to the team, and he is a great utility player. Bohannan will also mostly play, the man is an exceptional tallent, although he has hinted at late at calling time on his career, to join him (if in a 5-3-2 formation) Tao is a good option with Bowman always in contention. on the right, Berkeley will be another cert, with Piran still needing to prove himself. on the left a battle between rising star Oatts,the reliable Showman and the fore mentioned Bowman.

Midfield

A tough one as always, as this is where Khytenna growing talent comes from.

most likely? Falcon, Carmichael and Evelyn line up has always provided a great load of results for the squad and our always to go to players. but Whittstock is another exceptional winger, and the old Rusek always plays great for the national side (another player hinting that his international days may be over) Loy is another young start battling for his world cup place, and Flynn Kelly is a bright start as always. The player also wanting to get a place is K-G, a great player for Garwood, and should be included at some point.

Forwards.

Firestone will be playing most, if not all, games. He is fantastic player and the lead goal scorer for country and club. who to play along side him though? a very tough choice between 3 exceptional players. Pellet, the old favourite, might not get the classy of goals, but goals none the less, he has a proven partnership with Firestone, so he should get it right? Lawrence Yzo has pace, and the ability to score great goals as proven in the domestic league, he will be pushing for that starting place and last but not lest, Christian Waterson form Garwood, young player of the year, may not score the goals, but his assist record shows he can create the goals, and goals win prizes.

So, join us next time for the qualifier draws, where Khytenna will learn who they play for their spot

by **Slembana** » Fri Mar 22, 2013 8:58 am

(OOC: This article was written on the Slembanan FA’s website (www.slembananfa.slm).)

Our players do the Harlem Shake

Remember the Harlem Shake? The 2012 song became extremely popular all of a sudden in February 2013, and loads of people uploaded videos showing themselves doing the Harlem Shake onto MeTube back then. Sadly, our players couldn’t be bothered to do the Harlem Shake back then. However, just today, our players did the Harlem Shake. A video was uploaded onto MeTube.

If you don’t know what the Harlem Shake is, it’s a song in which someone starts dancing on their own for 15 seconds. Then, as a deep voice says “AND DO THE HARLEM SHAKE!”, loads of other people join in the dancing, with everyone doing crazy stuff.

The person who danced alone for 15 seconds was our star player Val Kylx. When the video hit 15 seconds, everyone else joined in, and did crazy stuff. Kylx did the worm. Finlay Yalnif held up a sign saying “RUSHMORE SUCKS!”. Kevin Banks yelled like a madman, while holding a rubber shark above his head. Of course, Kylx, Yalnif, and Banks were not the only players to go crazy. Everyone joined in the dancing, of course. The video was filmed in our national team’s state-of-the-art training complex in Bafilo.

by **Ko-oren** » Fri Mar 22, 2013 11:36 am

"All hands on deck!"

"Well, that's a ridiculously large deck..."

"I've always wanted to say something like this! This nation has no navy, too, so not many people get to shout that anyway."

"Well, before we pull the lever, let's make one last check!"

"Sure."

"Okay."

"First, contact all the Engines. There are about 250 set up around the west coast. Once they've responded, we can move on to part two of the checklist."

"Contacting now. It should only be a matter of minutes before all 250 points respond. The first lights are popping up... I think about 30 of them already responded."

...

"Okay, that seems to be all of them. Every single LED is lit up on the board now, all 250 of them. Step two: hit the lever. All 250 points have their fuel checked, they have enough power, seem to have no problems... Hit the lever!"

*click*

All three felt a small shock. Did this mean that everything went perfectly? If there were any problems, one or more LED's would immediately turn red. All 250 points were manned, and in case of an error, they would hit their red button, turning their LED red here, some hundreds of kilometers away. The three men here were in charge of making sure all 250 points were functioning, and those at one of the points were engineers, checking their engines, there were architects and technicians all over the place to make sure their engine was running smoothly. There were months of preparation to make sure this moment would not be the moment the entire plan came falling on them.

"No red LED's yet!"

"Great! We're about to hit 30 seconds, and still nothing has gone wrong yet!"

"Fantastic! Now we just have to wait and hope and pray that nothing goes wrong from this point for two weeks?"

"That's the idea. But you know how plans work, things never work out the way you want. But no problems at any of the engines yet, our preparation was thorough."

"Have we moved yet?"

"Yes, though just a few centimeters. Once we've hit our cruise speed, we should go a lot faster. But you can't just accelerate a landmass that has over 300 million people on it..."

That's right! We are slowly but surely moving Ko-oren from the 10000 Islands to Atlantian Oceania. The best way to do this, was to attach a number of huge engines to the west coast of the country to push it to the new location! We should at least cross the imaginary sea border between the regions in a few days, but it will take up to two weeks to arrive at the new location, pinpointed to the millimeter.

by **Cassadaigua** » Fri Mar 22, 2013 7:16 pm

Players “on the bubble” huddle before the final intersquad match.

Roster selection not easy,
by Brittany Lawton

Naming a roster after such an extensive tryout process makes you either the best friend or the devil in disguise to those who tried out. Every one of these ladies wants to represent Cassadaigua, and every one of them probably could do a good job of it. In theory, Cassadaigua has only missed one World Cup, but it seems like so many more. World Cup 62 did not get much coverage here, and even World Cup 61 seemed to fizzle out. For World Cup 64, the enthusiasm of international soccer is back, and this was a great opportunity for our nation’s best soccer players. I believe that we did all that we could to fairly evaluate the players, against some real high class opposition. First, a little bit about what went into the selection process.

It all began when I was named the head coach by CASE (Cassadagan Association for Soccer Excellence) President Stacie Kerrigan-Fraser. But in order for that to happen, the previous Dagan manager, Meaghan Bateman (who coached me!) needed to step aside. There are some who think it was a forced resignation, perhaps a delayed reaction to the team’s failure to qualify for World Cup 62. Or, if not because of that, that they just wanted a fresh face to take over what is also a new group of players. That’s all a bunch of hogwash, really. Meaghan is a close friend of mine, and told me that her resignation was indeed sincere. I know that some critics out there will even say that my saying that could also be a cover up of CASE’s agenda. If you want to believe that, then go on then and enjoy living your own warped little world of conspiracies.

I wasn’t the only one who made the decisions on who to name to the team. Joining me were former members of the Dagan national team, such as Michelle Taylor, Erica Lambert, Taylor Connolly, and Jessica Schanke. It was a joy to work with them, and it was important that we made this decision as a group, because we all have different things we specialize in. For goalkeeping, certainly I value the opinions of Michelle Taylor, who was our starting keeper in World Cups 56 and 57. Erica Lambert, who’s #15 is retired, knows more about playing in the back end then I ever do, and Jessica Schanke, who’s #17 is retired, can best evaluate offense, while Taylor Connolly can provide more analysis into the middle third of the field. This isn’t to say that I could not make such decisions myself, but when you have those great minds willing to help you, how could you not take advantage of that? We weren’t only looking at who was making great plays, and putting plus signs on those, and then penalizing bad plays, because there was so much more too it. Heart, composure, and selfless play are all very important intangibles. In some cases, in which I will not names, there were a few players that may have thought they were going to be named to the roster but are not because I had off-the-field concerns about them. It was an extensive analysis, and the first cuts were probably the easiest. It got tougher as we got closer to the final number, and then once there, it became just as hard to decide who was going to start, and who was going to come off the bench.

Rutland’s Chelsea Powers’ listens with concern as the final roster is named. She would not make the team.

After two games in Yesopalitha finished up our pre-qualifying tour, we returned to Concord Heights as a group and assembled all the women on the field to announce the final roster. We decided it would be best this way, for everyone to find out at once; and with many more people about to receive bad news then good news, we hoped they would be able to relate with one another, with teammates at the domestic level. There would be players about to receive great news, but it wasn’t a period of joy for them as much as it was a realization of the large chore that they will have to represent Cassadaigua in the World Cup. Lauren Kearns will be the starting goalkeeper. Right off the bat, she showed amazing composure, and never seemed to have a game where she was rattled. It is really important as we go into enemy stadiums and host good teams here, that we have someone in net who can handle pressure, and I have no doubt that Lauren is the best person for that. The same thing can really go, too, for the players were selected to play defense. Erica Kenney used her strong tryout to grab an international contract, and some reports have it that Kirsten Kunes was also considered for such an offer herself. Meghan Kinson always seemed to be in the right spot at the right time, but Erica Lambert informed me that that's not just a coincidence, that's a defender who anticipates and reads the play extremely well. Adrienne Geraci did well, too, and we welcome her physical style to the roster. Up front, Brianna Bouchard led all players in goals, so that wasn't a tough one, but her companion was a tougher decision. After several hours of deliberation, we've chosen Danielle Leonard, feeling she is the best complement, playing-style wise, to Bouchard. In the midfield, we're going with Brittney Moser and Erika Fenwick, not much of a surprise there, but also with Ashlee Spillane and Lexi Quinn. Ashlee will be in more of a defensive role, while Lexi's consistency is rewarded. They are great players, and the tryout process allowed them to get some early experience in playing together.

Things have changed, and not many people are going to expect us to qualify. It would be foolish for us to think we could just come back into this, do what we’ve done, and expect the same result.

It’s a different World Cup now. Audioslavia is a champion, and you shouldn’t need any more evidence then that.

by **Filopines** » Fri Mar 22, 2013 8:24 pm

“Good training session, boys. Les, can you call Stephen Cayley over here?”

“Sure, coach.”

“What is it that you wanted, coach?”

“Could you BE more lazy, Stephen?”

“Have you been watching Friends again? You know what your brother said about you watching that show.”

“I’m bloody serious, Steve. Now listen up. If you train like that one more time, you won’t play at all. You and your freakin’ girlfriend! What was her name? Molly Carver? You’re the captain and if you’re ‘doing it’ too much, you won’t be able to run and kick a F****N BALL! You’re doing it
every second of every day.”

“But..but..but it’s SO good!”

“I don’t give a friggety frak! I want you to do ten laps around the field. NOW!”

*30 minutes later*

“Is that a good example for the team, BUDDY?!”

“No, sir.”

“Do you deserve to be the captain of the national team?”

“Yes, sir.”

“NO YOU DON’T! Get down and give me fifty.”

*10 minutes later*

(looks down at watch)”I’m not impressed, Stephen. You may be only twenty years old, but that’s no good excuse to be performing badly. I don’t want you to see Molly at all for the next week.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“You better be. It’s 9 o’clock now. I want you to meet me here tomorrow at 11 am. I’m gonna push you to your limits. Even if you injure your
groin tonight, your still doing it. Goodbye.”

(Stephen Cayley walks away)

(Coach Reid goes through his phone contacts)

“Hey Molly. Are you at my place yet?”

“(sexy voice) You bet I am.”

“Hehehe.”

“So did our plan work?”

“Yes. It’s just gonna be us two for a week.”

“Oh, yeah!”

(Coach Reid fist pumps)

by **United Gordonopia** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 12:42 am

"Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us."
Romans 8:37

Even the war hadn't turned him to God.

Growing up in the nation's most atrocious hellhole, surrounded by the soot of a hundred thousand flames and the refuse of millions of wretched souls, he had never once looked towards the sky for deliverance. While those around him sought refuge through sanctuary, he had endured alone.

When he had been fortunate, some might have said blessed, to escape through talent, he had thanked no one but his mother and the men who had first noticed his abilities.

In the midst of the city's darkest hour, the flames engulfed by firestorm, the homes smashed to dust, the people dead in the streets, a literal hell on earth, he did not think to pray for strength or survival.

Even when he lead his nation to one of its greatest triumphs, when he himself was praised as a deity, he never felt the hand of the Lord.

All of that had changed.

It had been a year since he had taken up the grey. This was not the first time, but it was different. The first time he had served the Emperor, it had been in open warfare. Rising to captain a company, he had been both a celebrity and a war hero. Today, no one knew that he fought.

After the fanfare of the Empire's magnificent World Cup semi-final run had begun to fade, he had slowly faded with it. Fewer parades. Less frequent appearances at charity events. His mother taking the reins of his foundation for the poor. Eventually, he simply disappeared, became a shadow. At least in the public eye.

The Arbitrat of Force had been hesitant to admit him; he was simply too well known. However, his record in combat, incredible fitness for his age, and perhaps his connections as well, had helped him quietly enter into the Empire's secretive black operations unit. As long as he kept his head down and volunteered for the most remote missions, he wouldn't attract any attention.

It was as the outreached hand, the dagger, of the Emperor that the revelation came to him. It was now what fueled him. After his first operation, Ohoku's last thrust, he had been mystified when his comrades knelt in silence. It was not as if he had never seen prayer before; slums and locker rooms are alike in that regard. It was that these men, every last one, seemed to anchor their resolve through faith. Wasn't devotion to the sovereign enough?

When Norm hesitantly joined in, though, it was as if all of the troubles of his life were washed away. This was not simply the work of the nation. Not just the work of the Emperor. It was the work of God. Through God, the Arbitrat gained the strength to fight against those who would do harm. Through God, they felt the bond to those they were sworn to protect. Through God, their sins were washed away.

That was why this man, who once had never seen a glimpse of the light, was on his knees amidst the snow. Here, in the biting cold of the mountains, he was huddled with his men. Soon, he would bring the vengeance of the Lord to the Republic's final warriors. For now, he prayed.

The benediction brought warmth into his soul. He would need it to stave off the chill. Tolten's fire, cooled by the Northern ice, rekindled by the radiance of God.

This was Norm Bates.

by **West Angola** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 5:55 am

Namibe, Capital of West Angola, 2016
Luke Parrish looked down at the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. The white gauze of her veil obscured her face slightly, but the mere sight of Sarah’s face in a wedding veil, an ever-present dream these last three years, was more than enough to make up for it. Andreos Palaesio, Archbishop of Namibe, smiled at the two and then began to read,

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together these two young people together, in the bonds of Holy Matrimony. Luke Parrish and Sarah Derian will soon become one flesh, united forever in Christ. Should there be anyone here opposed to this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace…”

Namibe, Portuguese Expeditionary Fortress, 1894
The candlelight flickered, creating dancing shadows on the wall of the basement. General Peter Sien, Commander of the Namibe Garrison, frowned slightly. He’d lobbied hard for the introduction of Mr. Edison’s new electric lights in Angola, but the Portuguese Crown was more concerned with subduing the natives further inland than in efficient management of their garrisons. Every day he spent in this place was a new exercise in self-sacrifice, and the morning sight of rundown barracks and creeping foliage was even more disheartening than that of the Russian Imperial Eagle flying over Warsaw.

“Gentlemen, the time is now. Word has just arrived from Berlin; the Kaiser has ordered us to liberate Angola from the Portuguese for the glory of the German Empire. At dawn, we will execute the plan, and take this miserable excuse for a garrison away from any who oppose us.”

“…Cherish, to love and to hold, until death do you part?”

Parrish smiled, “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the Lord God, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Parrish looked into Sarah’s eyes as he lifted up the veil, and when their lips met, he felt as though a hurricane was blowing in his ears. That’s when he realized there was a hurricane blowing in his ears. Hurriedly opening his eyes, he looked around in wonder. The wind whipped and swirled around him, and everything was cast in a yellowish hue. Parrish floated in the middle of a massive cylinder, and looked around for any clue as to where he was, or why he was there. Suddenly, a booming voice echoed down from above, and Parrish looked up to see a dark-haired man with a mocking expression descending towards him.

“So, your highness, how do you like the décor?”

Despite his confusion, Parrish managed a little candor, “I’m partial to softer tones, myself, easier on the eyes. Who are you?”

The man laughed mockingly, matching his expression, “I? I am Q; omnipotent being, overseer of the universe, and general nuisance to lesser beings such as yourselves.”

Parrish’s confusion mounted, “Q? Is that short for something? What am I doing here?”

“No, just Q. As for what you’re doing here, that is my own business, although you won’t be staying long.”

“What do you mean? Where will I go?”

“On a fun little trip, enjoy yourself!”

Q snapped his fingers, and Parrish was suddenly yanked down the cylinder with unimaginable force, rocketing towards…what?

Sien peered down into the square. The loyalist commander of the Namibe garrison, a stout member of the provincial government placed there to make sure the German “advisors” didn’t get out of hand, was preparing a platoon of soldiers to seize control of Sien’s quarters. Just before the Kaiser’s telegram had arrived, Sien had learned that Lisbon had ordered his and Governor Blyr’s termination. Had Wilhelm not ordered him to act, he would have had to anyway, but here he was regardless. Now, looking through the scope of a sniper rifle, Sien tightened his finger on the trigger that would send a signal to his men throughout the city. He silently counted down: three…two…one…fire! Squeezing the trigger, he watched the portly figure who, until just now, had been the Assistant Minister of Colonial Affairs collapse in the street.

Suddenly, Sien felt a tugging sensation in his gut, and before he could react was unceremoniously ripped from the rooftop and thrown through a maelstrom of yellow and orange. After a couple seconds of furious spinning, the world settled back into focus, and Sien found himself standing in a cathedral, locked in embrace with a beautiful woman in a wedding dress, and…kissing!? Sien pulled back quickly, stumbling over his words as he stammered out an apology to…whoever this was.

“Please…please forgive me…madam. I-I don’t know…know what became of-of me.”

The woman smiled at him, “What are you talking about, love?”

“I-I appear to be… I don’t know what is… please excuse me.” Sien turned and sprinted out of the cathedral. In the congregation, Phillip Garren and Isaac Warren moved to follow him. The World Cup was right around the corner, and if Luke had flipped his lid, they needed to figure out why.

Parrish was stunned to find himself in the middle of a war zone. He was standing on a roof with a rifle in his hand, and all around him were men yelling and firing down into the street. The scene down in that street was utter pandemonium, as uniformed soldiers ran for cover and fired indiscriminately up at the roof. Parrish didn’t know where he was, why he was here, or who was fighting, but he did know that standing straight up in the middle of a battle was a bad idea. He quickly crouched down and tapped one of the men on the shoulder. “Excuse me, what’s going on here?”

The man gave him an odd look and raised an eyebrow, “Are you alright, General? We’re taking this city away from the Portuguese!”

Confused, Parrish nodded and turned back to watching the battle in the street unfold. A few seconds later, he realized what the man had called him—general!?

by **Cyborg Holland** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 6:02 am

20 hours after Endgame, Uninhabited Terrabondante

'I still see them. At night. When I close my eyes. The fire, the blood, the pain. What I have seen is unimaginable, the worst in humanity is brought out in war, but it's best is brought out in survival.'

The North-west of Terrabondante was relitavely untouched. The thick green hills were lightly scarred by skirmishing between Cyborg Holland reserve forces and the Apoxian Army. The sky was a deep purple, dotted with blotchy grey clouds. The optimist after an apoclyptic war would say 'at least we get nice skies.' Since Endgame time was merely a figment of humanity's past. You did what you could during the day, then batten down at night in whatever burned-out building you could find and hope the wolves didn't get you.

Robin's mind was a swirl of half-remembered memories and several fragments of voices and places. A burned-out tank shell. The scattered shouts of a APC crew screaming for help. The crack of artillery guns pounding a far-off target. He shook those thoughts from his head and sat up. Beneath him was cold and dry, but it was still dark all around him. He waited for about an hour until the first tongues of sunlight came to Robin's eyes. He started to make out shapes around him through the gloom. He appeared to be in a barn, lying on a mound of old hay. After more time passed, he made out the wooden walls of the barn. He looked directly above him, and saw a small hole in the roof of the barn, presumeably where a piece of debris had struck it.

He decided it was time to move, and he pulled himself up from the the hay mound. The door of the barn was slightly ajar and he pushed open, and the sight ahead of him filled his mind with those awful memories. The field ahead of him was littered with metal debris, and he could make out the remains of several APCs in a line along the middle of the field. The grass was scorched brown with several blackened craters. All the hallmarks of a 'Beaver Bomb', a weapon developed by Apoxian military scientists in the last months of war which devastated Cyborg Holland's once-impenetrable Armoured Convoy lines. There were charred bodies littered around the vehicle carcasses, those who had tried to escape the flaming infernoes of their vehicles.

Robin approached the carcass of the lead vehicle with care and searched inside. There were two bodies inside, they hadn't even tried to make it out. They weren't armed, so he continued searching round the vehicle for anything he could use. He spotted the barrel of a gun partially covered by a piece of wreckage, and he yanked it free. It was the standard issue assault rifle with a complete clip. He found three further clips, and had spotted another when he heard the crack of sticks behind. He turned instantly, raising the gun to his shoulder. The person was in an awful state. His clothes, which were torn and battered, were unrecognisable to Robin. They were camo fatigues, but were stained with dust and blood. The man raised his hands slowly, dropping something into the thick grass. Robin leaned towards it, and found that it was a small handgun. He recognised the handgun. Licentian Army Standard Issue.

"Get on your knees" barked Robin

"Please, wait, I don't want to hurt you" he replied in a Licentian accent.

"Why should I trust you? You probably killed my friends."

"Yes, probably, but that is irrelevant now. The war is over. Do you know what the date is?"

"March 14th?"

"April 22nd. I've been wandering these lands for 2 weeks, government has all but disappeared. The only people I've seen shot at me and stole my food."

"Who were they?"

"They were wearing various uniforms, both yours, mine and Apoxian. They looked pretty crazy."

"Okay" Robin lowered his gun "Stick with me. It's safer that way. You got anything on you?"

"Apart from that gun, just a few military rations, survival guide and army knife-kit"

"That'll be useful. I woke up in that barn, are there any buildings nearby?"

"Nothing liveable. There's an Apoxian Army Camp four miles east, but it's nothing now, just a few exposed tents and corpses."

Robin turned to face away from the wind.

"How many died?"

"What?"

"In the war?"

"Nobody really knows. The region's been declared Crisis State 0, that means beyond saving. The last of the aid choppers flew out surviving civilians about a month ago. Now it's just soldiers roaming the landscape. But they say Neuseeland is still untouched and is practically liveable. Green fields, blue seas, what we used to have"

"How far?"

"Never been there? Across the entire fucking continent then some more see. Easternmost point of the region is in Neuseeland."

"We gotta get there."

"It's gonna be tricky..."

by **The Inevitable Syndicate** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 7:28 am

An Inconceivable Truth
A Story of Syndicatian Climate Change

Chapter i. Negotiations

Magic was not a state of affairs Andrew Browne subscribed to. He was quite a realist, the past months affairs had been rattling about in his mind with no solution. The introduction of sapient animals in a nation to the west, threats of artillery strikes, economic downturn, increasing depression in both the economy and himself, and political instability in nations all across the region, were all reasons why things in the Syndicate weren't looking too good.

And now the issue of climate change. Andrew sat watching a Green Party politician in the middle of a speech, and was alerted to a fact that would shake up the Syndicatian landscape. Literally.

“So, you see", the politician pointed to a map of Calania, the continent in which the Syndicate inhabited. "the growth of the now 'Great' Calanian Desert is rapidly becoming a problem for us. It's reached our borders, and what was once the snow-covered city of Pinehearth is now a flooded mess. If these waters tip south and reach Nostromo, which is likely, then they could flood the crater city and cause huge damage. Our infrastructure is normally capable of dealing with floods, but not on this scale...”

Andrew sighed. He didn't need this on his plate. If there's one thing Syndicatians were content with, it was the commonness of the rain. Rain was eternal. You could make a safe bet on the weather. And now the sun was here to ruin it all.

“So, who is to blame for this?” Jack Spires, Shadow Administrator (and directly after Andrew's job) stood up. “I mean, the Green Party has made progressive social policies in order to cut down on harmful emissions and tackle climate change! This is the fault of other nations who refuse to follow suit! Nations like Ahlenfi and Ibex, even West Guiana, who the Syndicate has been getting far too tolerant of in recent years. Ahlenfi are a main exporter of oil! We should be past that stage by now! I say we engage in severe talks with the government there, and stop this at it's source!”

As Jack was about to wrap up his rant, the huge pine doors to The Forum burst open with a rattle, and a figure, drenched by the rain and wearing a trench coat and a hat, stepped in to the disbelief of the politicians around.

“You're half right – Ahlenfi may be the problem, but not in the way you just described.”

The person walked up to the main speech platform, and tapped the microphone.

“Now, you may all be looking at me in disbelief, thinking that if neighbouring countries simply cut down on carbon emissions, then the Syndicate can go back to being a dreary rainy hellhole. But, what if I told you that magic was to blame?”

Andrew stood up. “I'd call you mad and send you home! Who are you, anyway?”

A hat was raised, and the face of the mysterious figure was visible.

“My name,” the lady said, “Is Ariana Bones. Archaeologist and adventurer extraordinare.”

by **New West Guiana** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 11:18 am

Your Travel Guide to West Guiana
Gemsbrook, the nations capital

The city of Gemsbrook has a population of 18.4 million, and an land area of 127.3 square miles. Being the capital of a nation of 550 million people isn't easy, as there are always security threats terrorism and other dangers. However though for those that are lucky enough to travel to West Guiana and at that visit Gemsbrook consider this very helpful information guide, to be the guide to our fair city.

(above downtown Gemsbrook)

History

Gemsbrook, FD (Federal District) was first settled in AD 1639 by Sailors of the HMS Gem. When landing on the land where the city would be in the future, they found the land to be very moist and fertile which would be good as they planned to settle the land and make a new colony. However though when thinking of a name for the new settlement they couldn't decide exactly what to call the settlement.

So then for two years the settlement was simply referred to The New City. Until one day during a harsh winter storm the HMS Gems broke from her moorings and slammed onto the land. She was not salvageable so they used the wood from the ship to build new houses and furniture. The mayor of the settlement then declared that it's name should be after the ship that gave it life, and because the settlement was near a river they named the place Gemsbrook.

Through our the next 100 years the city flourished, it's population increased seven fold, from 570 to nearly 4,000. The city soon became the capital of the new colony soon named West Guiana, who at this period of time was a colony of Alkoul. No one that lived in the colony ever wanted to leave, nor did they ever want to stay part of Alkoul. The Alkoulians to the West Guianans were cruel and harsh. To the Alkoulians the West Guianan's were seen are savage, feral animals that needed to be tamed or killed.

This great dislike of one another continued for another 193 years, when West Guiana soon gained it's independence. More ever though during that time Gemsbrook continued to flourish and grow. From 4,000 in 1739 to over 78,000 in 1839. That year the city celebrated its 200th birthday, however though celebration were cancelled due to martial law being placed in the the city. The Alkoulian government feared that, the people would turn a day of joy into one of chaos as the resentment between Alkoul and their colony had grown. In Gemsbrook each week there was at lest five to six skirmishes between local militias and the Royal Guard that protected and patrolled the city. Over the course of nine years a total of 9,000 people had died.

In 1867 a group of locals gathered at thet colonial hall of justice to demand Alkoul give West Guianan's the same rights as those from Alkoul have, which was the right to vote, the right of free speech. In these days West Guianan's couldn't say what they wanted about Alkoul, well at lest around Alkoul soldiers, if they were caught or turned in by other locals they would be imprisoned for three months. However though the people of Gemsbrook hadn't to wait very long to be granted their wishes as the government of Alkoul was in dire straits, the Kings endless wars were slowing destroying the nation from in inside out.

In 1899 West Guiana was given semi-autonomy, and Gemsbrook was soon selected to be the new nations capital. As Alkoul started to implode the rich and wealthy of Alkoul started to flee to Gemsbrook and the rest of the nation so that their money would be safe. That same year an relative of the cities first mayor, Thmos Ankliev'e donated his mansion that when built was loacted along the out skirts of the city, but then became part of the downtown area, he gave it to the city for use of a city hall, as the old one, built in 1777 was shwoing its age seeing how it was built of wood and not stone.

The city accepted this donation as the new government of West Guiana was ready to claim eminent domain over the land to build the nations capital building.

For the next twenty years the city saw both a rapid growth rate and very low crime rates, the second was due in part to Alkoul giving the colony semi-autonomy and also the fact those who had more money tended to build their expansive homes in the city, while those who were poorer moved into the ghettos on the edge of the city or near the hubs of industry.

Soocer in Gemsbrook

Even though they were poor, the people who lived in the ghettos knew how to have fun, around the factories where many worked all day, there were large empty grassy fields if some were lucky. After a long days work and after school got out for the day, children would come to these fields and play various games, baseball, football or soccer. After a few years the owners of these companies realized there was money to be made off sports, so in early 1905 the Harrland Steelworks Co. set up a few wooden bleachers for a capacity of 500, and created a poorly done soccer field. The first game played there was against the Harrland Steelworks and Stoneynook Textiles.

The game lasted only 30 minutes as that was the same period for their lunch break, a crowd of about 700 gathered to watch and have some fun. Of course the workers from both factories cheered for their team and jeered at the opposing team. In the end the Harrland team won 7-3. After that day the Harrland Steelworks and Stoneynook Textiles came together to sponsor a small soccer league that would be made up of workers from surrounding factories.

The first soccer league was simply called the Harrland-Stoneynook Soccer League, both companies invested $ 3,000 into it, there were only four teams, and they all played in one stadium the same one that was built earlier. Maybe the word stadium is to strong, but the fans simply referred to it as Mud Stadium. Because even on dry days the field would get muddy as the field lay on top of a shallow marsh that was feed by spring water. Overall the stadium had seating room for 2,800 people and more for staning room only.

The teams for the opening first season, where made up of workers from the following companies, Harrland Steelworks, Stoneynook Textiles, Wolf Ammunition, City Transit. They played only nine games that first season, but in total the attendance for each game was around 3,400, for the season it was over 100,000. Much more than what many had hoped for. Tickets cost only $0.05, including food sales the league that first year brought in over $8,700. More than that the poor in that part of the city had something to look forward to each spring.

The first season of league play the champion was simply determined by which team ended the season on top. Here below are all the scores from that first season in 1906.

Team            P  W  D  L For  Ag +/- Pts
 1 Stoneynook      9  4  2  3  11   7  +4  14
 2 Harrland        9  4  1  4  16  13  +3  13
 3 Wolf            9  3  4  2  12  12  +0  13
 4 City            9  2  3  4   7  14  -7   9

League Champions

With that first very successful season in the books, Harrland-Stoneynook continued for the next seven years to sponsor the league. In 1913 the two companies, stopped sponsoring the league, but by this time the league had grown from four teams in 1906 to over 40. The league renamed it's self the Gemsbrook Armature Soccer League, that year they started with a capital of $80,000, saved up from the years when Harrland-Stoneynook sponsored the league.

During this time the GASL helped build five new stadiums, the largest still being Mud Stadium, now renamed Harrnook Stadium in honor for the two companies. With a capacity of over 9,000 it was both the largest soccer stadium in Gemsbrook but also the nation. From 1913 to 1922 the league flourished, with a total capital of over one million. Staring in the year 1917 the league started to pay its players, a total of $17 per-game. The league only had 20 sanctioned games for the season, which lasted two months. Many people who could play soccer rather well stopped trying to work in the factories, as they made three times as much playing than manufacturing things.

This in turn created havoc with the companies as the owners started to dam demand new laws that would restrict those who could and could not play the game. With 1922 came a national law that strictly forced soccer league to pay a tax of $50,000 for each game that they played. This in turn forced the GASL to fold as by seasons end as the league was more than $750,000 in debt. Everyone knew that the law passed was directed towards them as the leagues in the richer parts of the city could easily afford to pay the tax.

However though latter that year, sports leagues from around the nation had to be cancelled because of political unrest in Alkoul which directly threatened the security of West Guiana. By spring of 1923 the government of Alkoul had been dissolved and a dictator took power, the first thing he did though was grant West Guiana independence which surprised many. So the following year sports leagues continued.

For the next twenty years the city had several soccer leagues, however though despite the richer people pouring money into them each league failed, because of very little support. Until 1942 when the state of Myto repealed the law forcing leagues to pay $50,000 each game. Repealing the law a new city league formed, however though this league was made up of high schools and their school teams. The Gemsbrook Metro Area High School Soccer League (GMAHSSL) was created, in its it first year over 39 schools competed. The average attendance per game was 2,090. Since that first year the now renamed Gemsbrook High School Soccer Association (GHSSA) has 50 metro schools which compete in 21 matches, ending up with a city title game.

(Next up learn about the history and sports of St. Johns)

by **Western cuba** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 11:57 am

Las Palabras de Libertad

World Cup 64 Preview

Javier Andino

Well Makarov's grand Russano experiment didn't go too well did it for the World Baseball Classic. With the national baseball team only recording a 7-5 record, Makarov supporters can dip their heads in disappointment and only wait for the next classic. Will the same thing happen for the world cup? I hope not, but I can't say no.

Even though I hate the fact that most of the Cubano sector of Western Cuba has been unfairly excluded from sports and that I hate anything that has to deal with Makarov, I find it hard however to go against my national team. I won't turn into Makarov and the brutes that support him by going against the Russano race. I love the brothers of my country regardless of race, I judge them by character.

And I have to say, that's something I liked so far not only of the baseball team, but greatly of the soccer team. It's impossible to imagine what Tito Moreno has been through throughout his new transition into the national team. All of his former teammates were forcibly evicted from him, and replaced with random individuals who had trained across dozens of various new soccer academies across Western Cuba.

At the start of the Copa Rushmori, I thought the chemistry of this team was going to be a mess. Even for the Russano players, with most of them having never played together in their lives. With only a month of training, this new squad of players quickly bonded and played very well throughout the Copa Rushmori. And it showed with a third place finish.

Tito Moreno has surprised many by adjusting well with the "new" national squad.

Artem Mesyat's decision to place Tito Moreno as captain served as a shock as well, but proved to be rewarding in the end as well. This team has showed consistency, something that the former team lacked very much with Cayo Vargas. But yet again, Cayo wasn't much of a manager in the first place and was a foolish appointment by the Western Cuban Soccer Association. His failure as a manager just serves as more evidence to the trend that former star players don't transition well to the role of becoming a manager.

Mesyat however has long been involved with the game and has served as one of the top men for the Western Cuban Soccer Association for years. (Even before Makarov returned to power). His appointment as manager by have been the only damn thing that Makarov has done right since he took power. Now he just needs to do us a favor by wrapping a noose around his neck and jumping off a tree.

If we are paired with the right group, this may actually be the chance Western Cuba gets to qualify for the World Cup finals. The only thing I'm worried about is the false sense of security we had the last time we did well in the Copa Rushmori. But this team is a whole lot different then that last time, and my hope has risen once more. This is our time Western Cuba, and I urge you to support your national team, regardless of your thought on the current government. We may have our differences, but there is one thing that bonds us all together. Our national sport teams.

by **Kinzar** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 2:59 pm

Soccer fans get their tournament,

Behind all the coverage of your local sports team, and the more popular sports in the country, you’ll bound to find a small paragraph on the bottom of say, page 24, somewhere, about qualifying for World Cup 64. This is a competition that for some reason has the world going nuts. Kinzites will never understand what it is about soccer that gets almost 200 plus nations to sign up for it while a baseball tournament only gets about 60. Though we suppose this what participating in international sports is all about: we get to see what the world is most interested in.

President Kevin Spencer hasn’t said much about the World Cup other then to mention that it is part of his delivery of his campaign promise to give Kinzar a greater international presence as a nation, and that sports were going to play a big part of that. He was very public during World Baseball Classic 25, but instead seems to be leaving the handling of the soccer tournament to the Kinzar Soccer Federation, and it’s president Matthew Brown. Brown is trying to sell the history of the tournament, which is actually very impressive, to draw interest, but says that “unless the team qualifies for the actual tournament, I can’t see this getting a lot of publicity in our country. However, make no mistake, there are a lot of people who are very interested in this, and everyone who thinks Hudson and St. Petersburg stadiums will not even be a quarter full are going to be very wrong.” Brown says that nation will see some high quality soccer, especially when the groups top seeds come to visit but, “until we’re able to be competitive with them, we’re not going to convince the casual fan to come out and watch us, likely, lose by a large margin. The team was not competitive in the Baptism of Fire, so don’t expect the kind of first-time effort that we saw in baseball from our guys.”

Brown hopes that over the long term, soccer can become a more popular sport in Kinzar. After all, it’s not as if the sport is never played. In fact, it is one of the most popular youth level sports, and in high schools, soccer games can be quite competitive. But then, things just change, and Brown knows exactly why. “People who grow up with soccer, and are very good at it, are often good at other sports as well, and soccer is just one of the sports they play in high school. Because the other sports are more prestigious, those are the ones they end up pursuing, and as such we lose the people who could be amazing soccer players to sports like football or baseball.” He continues with his plan, “It is my hope that one day, and this is going to take a lot of time, soccer becomes more appealing to play for our young athletes, and they decide to pick soccer instead of going to football or baseball. If nothing else, the World Cup will show them the amount of nations that play soccer, and maybe they’ll see that they can get good overseas offers. For that to happen though, we need to have some players make these moves, and that’s not going to occur overnight.” Brown also blames the media for their portrayal of soccer as "boring".

So what does Brown think of Kinzar’s chances in qualifying? “The Baptism of Fire showed us we have a lot of work to do. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be done, there have been many World Cup champions who never won a Baptism of Fire.”

by **West Angola** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 4:14 pm

Namibe, Portuguese Garrison Fortress, 1894
Luke Parrish had figured a few things out. He’d always been a history buff, and after George Sien was elected king he’d broadened his research into the beginnings of West Angola and the Sien family. The fact that the rebels were fighting with and killing Portuguese, as well as the fact that he was being addressed as “General,” suggested that Q had not only dropped him into the West Angola War of Secession, but had placed him in the body of Peter Sien, the first King of West Angola. Parrish had joined in the shooting, helping his countrymen in driving the Portuguese from the square, and had now gained a brief respite as the rebels prepared for the final push to expel Portugal from the fortress.

Peter Sien was a native Pole who had been placed in West Angola to subvert Portuguese authority. Following the Berlin Conference, the Portuguese had found themselves locked in a dispute with Britain over territories between Mozambique and Angola, a situation which had weakened their position in Africa and drained the resources of both the colonial government and the Crown in Lisbon. By 1888, Angola was a massive drain on the national budget, and the Angolan Government spent most of its time fighting native uprisings and British incursions. Into this situation had come Kaiser Wilhelm II, who had “persuaded” the Portuguese Monarchy to accept the aid of Generals Sien and Eston Blyr in colonial administration. The pair had become commandants of the fortresses at Namibe and Luanda, respectively, and remained there for six years, waiting for the signal from Berlin.

In 1894, the Kaiser’s order arrived just as the Portuguese forced Sien’s hand. Long chafing under the perception that the Germans were the only thing keeping Angola stable, young King Carlos I secretly ordered the execution of both Sien and Blyr. Unfortunately for Carlos, Sien commanded more loyalty than the inept Portuguese commanders in Namibe, and as such was well aware of the plot and prepared an ambush. When the Assistant Administrator for Colonial Affairs (the highest-ranking Angolan government official in Namibe) arrived to make the arrest, Sien was waiting for him…

Parrish thought he recognized the body of the Assistant Administrator lying on the ground, and had concluded that he was indeed in Namibe at the beginning of the uprising against the Portuguese. Parrish was startled out of his thoughts by one of the men, the same one he’d spoken to earlier, “Sir? Are you ready to move?”

The men were all looking at him expectantly, and Parrish put on an embarrassed smile, “Yes, pardon me, just saying a quick prayer. Let’s go.”

Garren and Warren caught up to Parrish halfway down the street. Garren ran with a limp from the auto accident, and Warren’s body had been a mess ever since he’d been poisoned by August, but Parrish was weaving and stopping every few meters to ask passers-by where he was. Each man grabbed one of Parrish’s arms, and Warren spun him around. When Parrish tried to wriggle away, Garren shook him, “Luke! What the hell was that!?”

Parrish looked dazed, and he looked at Garren without recognizing him, “Luke? Who is Luke?”

My word, he really has cracked, Garren thought, this is bad.

Warren broke in, “You are! You are Luke Parrish, football player, former King of West Angola, and, as of thirty seconds ago, husband of Sarah Derian! Now, what on earth has gotten into you!?”

Parrish’s eyes focused on Warren, “West Angola? But if I’m in Namibe…what year is it?”

Now it was Garren’s turn to be confused, “It’s 2020 by the West Angolan calendar, what difference does that make?”

Parrish rocked backwards and began talking to himself in hurried, hushed tones, “No, but…it’s 1894! It can’t be 1894, the buildings, the styles, and this is Namibe! It can’t be Namibe, it looks nothing like Namibe! But if it’s a hundred years later, why couldn’t it be Namibe?”

Garren shook him again, “Luke! What has come over you!? What’s wrong?”

Parrish’s face cleared, and he looked at Garren, “Gentlemen, forgive me. I do not know who Luke Parrish is, because I am not him. I believe I am the victim of some cosmic disturbance, and have been brought through time to this place. I apologize for my earlier confusion, but it has only now dawned upon me what is going on.”

Garren was stunned, either Luke had really gone off the deep end, or this was some bizarre joke, or…he was telling the truth, “Then, who are you?”

Parrish looked into Garren’s eyes, and Garren saw no mirth there, this was no joke, “I am Peter Sien, noble son of Poland, and I believe I am now 126 years out of time.”

by **Gyatso-kai** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 8:05 pm

National Sports Council Complex, Republic City, Gyatso-kai
1820 hours local time (UTC+8), 22 March 2013.2

The National Sports Council Complex was a sprawling collection of various arenas and administrative buildings located on the northern edge of Republic City. In fact, it was the last major area before one would reach the Northern Barracks for the Grand Army of the Republic; an area few civilians ever found themselves visiting. An airfield was located just outside of the Complex, where various aircraft would land, carrying with them any number of athletes and their coaches.

A young man found himself walking away from the decent-sized football stadium, a black truck waiting for him. He was dressed in a practice uniform, though not one of the national team or any Series A team in Gyatso-kai; rather, it looked to be a collegiate uniform, with the seal of the Avatarian Collegiate Sports Association emblazoned on his chest. He was a rather large man; solidly built and fit as could be. However, the look upon his face suggested perhaps he was unhappy with what had transpired inside of the stadium. He approached the truck, the door opened by an even-larger man, who simply nodded his head before closing the door on the younger man. Another man inside gave a slight smile, before turning on the vehicle and driving away.

"Well, that went well," spoke Leifong Saikhan, who had been watching the entire scene from atop the stadium. He stepped down from the wall, and found himself right next to Head Coach Boba Vhett.

"As well as one can expect it when telling a rising collegiate man that he just is not good enough for the national team," Vhett sighed as he looked to the clipboard on his lap. "What is that? The tenth ad'ika we have told today?"

"Try the twelfth," Leifong uttered, resting against the wall. "Ki Lo'pike was number twelve on our list of new forwards."

"Shame that Wakahisa has to retire," the Head Coach grimaced as he continued to flip through the files. "But that knee injury during the Chalice match with Keldabe..."

"Was just as nasty to watch on television as it was to experience in person."

"Just... I was hoping we could simply have A'den come up to start," Vhett shrugged his shoulders, his eyes transfixed on some distant point. Leigong simply hit Vhett on the shoulder; a gentle push to bring him back to reality.

"So would I, but you saw A'den in his last KSU match... 4-nil against the worse ranked team in the ACSA. How did he do last month at Pro-Day?"

"Terrible... I have never seen such disgusting footwork."

"Well, do you want that to be the starting strike of our game?"

Vhett simply sighed, closing the notebook on his clipboard and placing it beside him. "I just want to know why he has gotten so much worse in the last year..."

"Too much on his mind?" Leifong expelled. "He lost a huge series of game for the Strills, breaking his confidence. His long-time girlfriend was caught cheating in the visitor's locker room with that keeper from Republic State, and with that spreading over RepTwitter faster than a Maolin forest fire in the middle of Qīyuè... His confidence was firmly shattered."

"It is just a girl..."

"A girl he dated for the last six years and proposed to last Cup."

Vhett stood from his seat and started to move towards the aisle; up on the top row, it was certainly a long walk down to the pitch, where he could see Nishimura Kenshin working with the two young travelling keepers, as well as Shu Guatami. Vhett admired how Nishimura took his retirement; he remembered the talk they had right after World Cup 62, in which Vhett told Nishimura it was time to throw in the towel. Sure, his initial reaction was one of anger and despair, but Vhett reasoned with the veteran keeper that it was always best to go out on top than to watch your career crumble before your eyes in the waning years. Now, he held two Goalkeeper Coach jobs --- one at the University of Omashu and another on the National Team.

Still helping the Bisons succeed...

Leifong noticed where Vhett's gaze had been shifted, and he started following his boss. "At least Kenshin is having luck with the younglings."

"Which is great. Kita is coming in tomorrow, so having the starter here will definitely speed up our development."

"Any new keepers coming in?"

"No," Vhett firmly stated. "With Kita and Takumi a good one-two, Shu and the two younglings can continue to work on their form without any more competition."

"Obviously our defence is set, at least with the Traveling Corps..." Trailing off, Leifong was not sure of the status, but rather seeing Vhett's opinion.

"We are fine there, though, with Kobayashi looking at his retirement, we may need to move some players up from Traveling to Reserve."

"Like"

"Suzuki Juro, for one. Sure, he is only 18, but on par with many of our collegiate defenders. Quick on his feet, ever since recovering from his high ankle strain last year..."

"Again, our recruits seem to be plagued with injury."

"Just the nature of our game. Luckily for us, International ball is a great deal less physical than our home game."

The two men continued the walk down to the pitch, engaged in conversations many in the Republic media would be dying to hear. They had a great deal of work cut out for them, and with just weeks until the roster for their National Team would be due, they had better speed up...

by **Filopines** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 8:35 pm

The next day at 11:49 am:

(Coach Reid limps to the middle of the ground)

“Where on Earth were you, Coach?! I’ve been here since 8:30 practicing my skills and working on my fitness!”

“I ‘got some’ last night.”

“With who?!”

“Uh…hehe…my wife?”

“You were with Molly weren’t you?”

(Coach Reid shakes head)

“Do not lie to me, Harley James Reid! I’m not stupid! DO YOU THINK I’M STUPID?!”

“Look, she came on to me.”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“Ste-“

“Don’t you dare talk to me! Never talk to me again. And I won’t talk to you again.”

(Kenneth Nolder walks up to Cayley and Coach Reid)

“Kenny, uhh…what…what are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d have a kick around. What are you and Stephen doin’ here?”

“Um…(looks at Stephen)…nothing. I was just about to leave. See you at training Kenny. (looks at Stephen) Stephen.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ahmed’s here as well. He’s in the car putting on his boots.”

“(mumbles) Yeah, great.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

(Ahmed Dibay jogs towards Kenny) (Stephen Cayley walks away)

“Where are you going? Stephen?”

(Kenny chases Stephen)

“F*** off, Kenny.”

“Sorry.”

(Kenny walks back to Ahmed)

“Who was that?”

“It was nobody. What took you so long to put your boots on?”

“There was an ant!”

“Come on, Ahmed. It’s just an ant.”

“Shut up. Let’s start.

“(Kenny laughs) Sorry! Ok.”

by **Chunnan** » Sat Mar 23, 2013 11:45 pm

www.ceas.com

A New Story to Unfold

Chunnan has had a horrible World Cup run, coming in second to last place in the qualifying groups. Chunnan has never been known for being good at sports other than American Football after the 57ers going to the Prime Bowl where they lost. Yet, this year, things may change. The roster hasn't changed, except for some people getting older. No new players have been added because no one bothered to sign up. But, Chunnan is hoping for a good run. This will be Midfielder Luke Farswa's last year, after playing for 19 years. He's decided to make this 20th year, his last. Unfortunately, Luke has lived a life of failure in Chunnan. Yet, he is hoping to get to the World Cup, just to say good bye from there. The fans will also be there to help, with the newly remodeled Heroes Stadium in Chun City, Chunnan. Added in the stadium is new seats, VIP spots, and a lot more modern technology. This stadium is usually used for American football, but now is used for the Chunnan national team during the 57er off season. Could Chunnan actually make it? Will they get close? All is to come, in World Cup 64.

by **Northern Sunrise Islands** » Sun Mar 24, 2013 8:34 am

DE PLACA
More Quality than the number of Mr. Catra's wifes.

WORLD CUP 64 QUALIFIERS
Marills looking forward for the Qualifiers after decent pre-season
Once again, the Marills played a couple of international matches against Emirates of Futurnian national teams as training in order to prepare for the World Cup Qualifiers. The squad from the World Cup 63, while somewhat of a lackluster last season, has returned to play in its entirity. Another part of the country that is happy with the return of the Qualifiers, is the Tourism part, who appearently have had their better days. With the certainty that many teams will make the travel to Northern Sunrise Islands and play against our Marills, Hotels have gone in a interstate of investments and the government plans to also get some interest of the foreigners in the culture of the islands.

"While we don't really believe that we shall take part at the World Cup itself, which at some point actually made the country unsure whether allowing the national team to play could be more of a deficit than anything else, we from the tourism area made pressure so that we could send the Marills outside to play and get us some foreign money."
Mark Poochyena, owner of Luckrew Hotel.

Movimento Gaúcho: "Arena Porto Alegre will be the greatest stadium the Marills ever played at."
A regionalist movement of Uniondesud Island, Movimento Gaúcho, normally related to events that support things from the island, such as Porto Alegre FC and Joinville 14ers, have already declared that the newest stadium on the list, Arena Porto Alegre, will show greatness on stadium level.

"We are obviously going to show the World that our stadium is great. Just wait and see, world!"
Said Marcelo Souza-Parra, president of Movimento Gaúcho.

The matches of the Qualifying Round of the World Cup will be drawn soon.

by **Sandwich Territories** » Sun Mar 24, 2013 2:45 pm

DCSTFC HQ: OLD CRUSTVILLE

TIME:14:28

"We don't have much time left, and I know we have been rather quiet...but don't think we're inactive for a split second. You, your teammates, this team, hell, this organization has been training and improving since we were knocked out last time. I know, people don't believe in us the split second they see us. I guess the upsets weren't enough. These people think we need time to blossom, that we ought to rot in the cellar for a few tourneys, and then shine. Well, to frickin' hell with that. As if we needed that kind of shitty state of mind around here. We gotta keep moving forward. We aren't perfect, but we aren't satisfied, either. And if you are, leave the building and don't bother asking if you can make next WC's squad, or any national team squad ever again. I know this group of guys can do some damage, so lets reek hell, kick ass, and take names, huh boys?"

"YES SIR!"

"Good. Now, lets get on that plane. Sandwich has it's eyes on us, and we are gonna give them, and the rest of the world, a show..."

by **New Sideburn** » Sun Mar 24, 2013 4:19 pm

The Bloody Press
"Oh lord," grumbled Gethin as the players walked smugly down the tunnel to leave the stadium. "It's the bloody press. Rook, Asger, and Lukas to the fore. Olga and Gerhard, you're the rearguard. Everyone keep ahold of your wallets."
Soon enough, as soon as they stepped into the sunlight and fresh air, cameras snapped and microphones crowded their faces.
"Mr. Beardsley!" came a desperate voice. "What was your emotion as you scored a fantastic strike to win the game?"
"I felt pretty great," said Grant, breezily.
"What happened to Grit Steppe?" asked someone. "His absence in the final was noted."
"He's been replaced by Jess Mortlock, formerly the goalkeeping coach," answered Gethin, flatly. "Next question."
A foreign journalist coughed, then raised his hand almost nervously. Gethin nodded at him, and he coughed again before asking, "Your team has sometimes, uh, been criticised for a lack of 'flair'. Do you... uh, what do you think of those claims?"
Gethin glared at him, as if attempting to set him on fire with his will. "Flair, he says. 'Flair'. What does that even mean, 'flair'? Tell me what flair means."
The journalist deflated, and seemed almost about to sink into the ground, as the press quietened down and stared at the unfortunate man. "Well, uh, you, uh, your offensives tend to be reliant on strength and physicality, and uh, and raw pace."
"We're strong and we're fast, what's the bloody problem?"
"Well uh well uhhh uh uh um. Er. Ahh." The journalist blinked, as though a rabbit in the headlights.
"Chief," said Jess Mortlock, "I think he means we don't fuck around when we're on the ball and have a massive circlejerk in the opponents' box."
"Oh!" said Gethin, eyes bright with fervour. "Well, then, consider us guilty as charged! But note who is winning. And I'd add this to your bloody news report. We're only gonna get better with time. We'll find your teams with goddamn 'flair' and we will kick their fucking teeth in."
There was a brief silence, and the victorious team used it to get into their cars and drive off. The journalists dispersed, soon afterwards.

Ambition
"So you're saying this is gonna be the speech for the pre-game cinematic thing, for the final game?" asked Gethin. The man only nodded impatiently, eager to just get the voice clip and go home. "And I should just say our ambitions and stuff. Right."
Gethin shouldered past the agent and into the booth, made sure the recording was playing, cleared his throat and launched into it.
"New Sideburn is a glorious nation," he began, "and we have a long history of excellence at the sport of football- no, fuck it, cut. I'mma try this again. Get into the spirit of the occasion."
The recording guy nodded, and counted him off again. Gethin launched into it this time, somewhat more vigorously.
"We are New Sideburn!" he roared. "You have chosen us to win glory at the World Cup? That is good, and shows impeccable judgement on your part. New Sideburn represents raw strength and courage where other nations forward only their fragile beliefs in stylish, hollow play. If you wish to march under the green and blue of New Sideburn, then you have shown yourself already to be better than these other, weaker nations. You have shown you believe bravery and hard graft are the only ways to honourable victory. We may only be recently introduced to the World Cup, but by God do we intend to make ourselves heard! Fight with pride! Fight with courage! Victory to the strongest!"
There was a brief silence in the recording booth. One of the spindly, nerdy-looking guys in there was visibly still cringing. The other, very hesitantly, cut the recording.
"That was... uh, perfect," he said, grinning uneasily. "Very good... very, very good. Uhm. Yes. You can ... you can go now, Ramsey. Well done."

Training Reforms
There was dissent at the training ground.
"I've seen some of these bloody teams," said Leyland Stallion, whipping himself into a near-frenzy. "They're bloody terrifying! On another level completely."
"Don't say that," said Lukas, in a warning tone.
"The Baptism was one thing, this'll be another entirely," Leyland continued. "Not saying we aren't gonna notch up some wins... we will, I'm sure of that. But, well... at the end of the day, what are our chances, really?"
"New Ecopia wasn't exactly fun," said Karelline Charmwell, shivering a little.
"I ain't worried," said Rook, breezily. "They can't run if they don't have legs."
"Rook, we can't solve everything by fucking... hacking their shins off," sighed Portia.
"'Course we can."
"Our chances don't matter," said Gerhard Thunder, philosophically. "We've just gotta get stuck in and do the best we can."
"Yeah," said Dale, who had previously looked a little doubtful. "Yeah, as long as we do alright, we'll always have a chance. I mean, Leyland's right, we've got to be realistic, but that doesn't mean we've got to be pessimistic."
"Oh lord, here comes the gaffer," warned Kurtis, as the man stepped out of his car and began walking down to his players.
"Lads," called Gethin, by way of announcing his arrival. The team immediately noticed him and flocked around him. "You may have been, as I have, watching some of our future opponents. And yes, things... aren't encouraging."
There was some more grumbling from the assembled mass. Gethin stared everyone down with contempt. "Regardless," he continued. "I've come back from the draw, we're in the top half of Pot 7 out of 10."
Bruce Payne just looked more confused than ever. "... What does that mean?"
"Means they don't think our chances are that great," said the gaffer, blandly. "And we'll get drawn into a group with six sides they think are better. We're... ranked 183, though that is out of every nation, not just the ones currently in the WCQ. Which still isn't great. Still, it's 101 places over Glascovia, and they're not bad. But- BUT! We're only gonna improve and acclimatise with time. Within two or three years we could be competing for the world cup itself. Nations rise and fall quickly here."
Gethin surveyed his players once more. "I'm very proud of you. All of you. First time New Sideburn steps onto the international stage, and we win the first bloody trophy of any worth we see. Heh... how very like us." The gaffer chuckled a little, before casting an eye around his players lazily. "Anyway... these new teams probably done their homework on us. They know we're gonna be flyin' in, studs high. They're gonna have to treat us with respect. They'll know that they can't afford to bring on physically weak players, or we'll just flatten them. Rook, if you want a quick laugh, go look up your name in some foreign message boards, they think you should be arrested, it's really funny." Rook smirked. "Anyway, yeah. We're basically statistically as good as you can get after this few games, we're only gonna be doing better. And, you know what? Fuck rankings. Fuck pots. Between us, I think we can make a real push for the Cup itself. Are you with me?"
A murmur of assent from the assembled players. Gethin nodded, approvingly. "Good. Now let's do our country proud!"

by **Kalumba** » Sun Mar 24, 2013 7:51 pm

The Kalumban Herald
Report by Bruce Mtwetwe

Well 'The Tortoises' are back. After a long enforced break from international competiton the Champions of the 43rd BoF have finally managed to regroup a team from our war ravaged nation to compete with the best in world once more. Sadly we have been drawn in a difficult Group 11 with veterans like Saugeis and Eastfield Lodge, but the team cannot be expecting to do anything other than to avoid embarrassing themselves. With no football being played in Kalumba due to the insurgency, only Chris Abouto, Ollie Roberts, Ben Rowlatt and Terrance Ottbourne who play abroad, are prepared for an international tournament. But all the players will want to do the nation proud and hopefully we may be able to snatch a win or two and not end up an embarrassing last in the group, but for the team this is just the start as we try to rebuild our reputation and ability at the highest level.

World Cup 64 RP Thread

World Cup 64 RP Thread

Journey to a New Beginning: Part I

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