kellen wants a dod team
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kellen_rust
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kellen wants a dod team
FOR YOU!
Last edited by kellen_rust on Tue Apr 26, 2011 3:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Sears
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Re: I WANT TO PLAY DOD
wHo R u?..
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kellen_rust
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Re: I WANT TO PLAY DOD
are you kidding or..?
im the great kellen rust.
im the great kellen rust.
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kellen_rust
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Re: I WANT TO PLAY DOD
and how do i get involved in these 12 mans i keep reading about?
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`NG
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Re: I WANT TO PLAY DOD
whoa now.
whoa.
whoa.
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Sears
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Re: I WANT TO PLAY DOD
HUGE NERDS
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kellen_rust
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
its funny to see that picture considering i can see that check from where im sitting right now. lolz.
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`NG
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
big check havin ass
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
kellen_rust wrote:its funny to see that picture considering i can see that check from where im sitting right now. lolz.
BIGGER NERD.
5.OWNED !~~~~
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
Still writing these days, Kellen?
Main vent for 12mans:
Winnfield ventrilo
vent30.gameservers.com
5068
julio
Main vent for 12mans:
Winnfield ventrilo
vent30.gameservers.com
5068
julio
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
more like...
alex kirk wrote:Main vent for FAGS:
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
No response. You got me there.Sears wrote:more like...alex kirk wrote:Main vent for FAGS:
Brb squatting 600-something pounds without going parallel to the ground and calling it a legit 700 for reps.
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
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kellen_rust
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
yeah of course. i just started working on another book.
also reading like crazy. finished up The Butcher: anatomy of a mafia psychopath, Game Change, and The Murder Room over the past week.
First three chaps of new book if anyone's BORED.
1)
Winston Walcott hurriedly packed his few possessions into a sodden suitcase, still moist from the long rain on the walk into town. The seams had ruptured, almost completely in some places, and the corners bulged like a tumor against the contents inside. His possessions were few in the sense that most people, by age 32, have collected more earthly belongings than will fit into one dilapidated suit case. But Winston wasn't average, not by any stretch of the word. For while a normal person might struggle to fit an extra shirt, or perhaps a second pair of blue jeans, it was a double-barreled shotgun with which Winston struggled against. He was sure it would fit, "absolutely god damned positive;" for he had cut it to just the perfect length a few weeks before, and for precisely that reason. Finally, after much prying, and at the expense of just a few more suitors of stitching, he had it closed.
Beaming, as a child might enthusiastically raise a perfectly colored chrysanthemum to the refrigerators’ door, he hoisted the case with care up onto the freshly made bed. For Winston so prided himself in his tidy little habits, utterly elated when completing even the most mundane tasks, be it the dishes or sweeping or even brushing his teeth. It was the thrill of completion alone that sustained him, and while lofty goals often proved elusive, the dishes did not.
In a sense, his cleanliness was the one thing in the whole world he had complete control over. Impulse and deranged fantasy had almost completely taken over - but he still had good fingernails. It was utter hypocrisy like this that would come to define Winston and his left from center philosophies. You would never guess that he was homeless or often living in shoddy, run down, roach infested motels. But one thing was for certain. He always left them better than he found them, and he doted on this quality.
One room over, completely unaware of anything that was going on in room 215, of the double-barreled shotgun and it's eccentric, psychotic owner, Ms. Sophia Dominguez finished up the last of her chores, one of which was remembering to corner off the end of the toilet paper, an act she despised roundly never mind its simplicity. She thought it "utterly unnecessary, well, when you consider what someone is very soon going to do with that there paper."
After pulling the shower curtain just so, she began gathering up her supplies and transporting them to her work cart, which remained just outside the door, signaling to management precisely what room she was in.
When she was satisfied that she had gathered everything, she turned out the bathroom light, stopped only for a moment to primp her hair in the mirror, and proceeded down the cat walk, 8 or 10 steps, toward room 215, toward Winston Walcott, his shotgun and his ghostly, vacant eyes. Eyes that might give even the most hardened criminal goose bumps, the spring shower shivers.
2)
Bobby Ruck blushed a deep beat-violet, something he'd inherited from his father, as he clasped his hands around Evelyn’s waste. They were both dressed in the finest clothes they owned: Bobby, a suit that had been given to him by his father, the same person, in fact, that had passed down such a radiant hue in Bobby's cheeks when he was embarrassed - or in this case smitten. For surely it was the latter, as Evelyn was, by all account, the only girl he'd ever had an eye for, and here she was, cutting a perfect figure in her favorite satin dress, one her mother had hemmed for her through the better part of a year. The result wasn't short of breathtaking, especially on Evelyn, and Mrs. Temple silently reveled in each picture she snapped, for each bore two-fold things she had taken great pains in bringing into this world.
Bobby and Evelyn were heading that night to the Fairbanks High school Formal, very much a prom in the general sense, an event that held great significance for them especially. Soon they would be heading off to college, the same, as they had both been accepted that previous December. Evelyn was especially nervous, counting down each day with the up most anticipation. She was beautiful by all accounts: elegant, classy, sophisticated, seemingly aristocratic, dainty but never snobby, articulate but never condescending. She was the type of person that made you feel good about yourself. Her hair was a beautiful sun-bleached blonde, the kind that "some girl’s plain dislike you for," she was often quoted as saying to Bobby.
She was well learned on many instruments, but felt most at home on the piano, her slender fingers dancing effortlessly down the ivory keys, coaxing out the most beautiful melodies you were ever likely to hear in person. She had won Bobby over that way; one of the first times he had visited her family's cottage near eastern Idaho. He was taken aback by this seemingly childlike girl producing such a grown-up, ranged concerto. She sang and played and Bobby blushed his best beat-violet - for he had been certain when he arrived that it would be him that did the wooing. Never the less, he reluctantly resigned his role and was obliged to let Evelyn court him – an act she succeeded wholly upon. Within weeks of that meeting they would be deemed the sweethearts of Fairbanks by the local gossip hounds.
Evelyn’s piano teacher, Mr. Douglass, thought Evelyn one of the most promising young pianists in all of Idaho. What's more, he considered her a friend.
"Evelyn was the type of person you could always count on. I remember one time; I broke down plumb middle-a-nowhere, the pitch of night, maybe 2 a.m. I walked about 3 miles to a filling station, it wasn't open but they had a pay phone out front. Evelyn’s the first name that popped into my head. I hardly had the heart to call, could you imagine? Middle of the night like that? Don't reckon anyone else 'a done it, even answered, I mean. But Evelyn was different. Answered on the first ring - it's just how she was. Give you the coat right off her back in a snow storm, no lie."
Evelyn eventually reached the bottom of the stairs, smiled deeply, then curtsied, as if to an invisible audience, and ushered Bobby toward her. Just then, Mrs. Temple snapped her final pre-formal picture.
A picture that still hangs, to this very day, above the entry way of Mr. Douglass' kitchen.
3)
Mr. Walcott began walking, suit case in hand, up i-80 toward Colorado. He had decided, after much internal debate, that he would head North, as he was tired of the smothering great plains, the seemingly never ending intermittent corn and wheat harvests, the sweltering heat, the smoldering concrete, humidity that chokes you like a caustic cloud of chlorine.
Yes, he would head north, and breathe easy mountain air for the first time into his lungs. How he longed for that chilling relief. Instead, he was faced with an endless freeway, a road that very well stretched into perpetuity, and no car to boot. So he resolved to steal one at the next rest stop, and in doing so, seal the fate of some unlucky soul along the way. He was tired of thumbing it, couldn't take it anymore, for it seemed Texas might truly never end if he kept that up.
also reading like crazy. finished up The Butcher: anatomy of a mafia psychopath, Game Change, and The Murder Room over the past week.
First three chaps of new book if anyone's BORED.
1)
Winston Walcott hurriedly packed his few possessions into a sodden suitcase, still moist from the long rain on the walk into town. The seams had ruptured, almost completely in some places, and the corners bulged like a tumor against the contents inside. His possessions were few in the sense that most people, by age 32, have collected more earthly belongings than will fit into one dilapidated suit case. But Winston wasn't average, not by any stretch of the word. For while a normal person might struggle to fit an extra shirt, or perhaps a second pair of blue jeans, it was a double-barreled shotgun with which Winston struggled against. He was sure it would fit, "absolutely god damned positive;" for he had cut it to just the perfect length a few weeks before, and for precisely that reason. Finally, after much prying, and at the expense of just a few more suitors of stitching, he had it closed.
Beaming, as a child might enthusiastically raise a perfectly colored chrysanthemum to the refrigerators’ door, he hoisted the case with care up onto the freshly made bed. For Winston so prided himself in his tidy little habits, utterly elated when completing even the most mundane tasks, be it the dishes or sweeping or even brushing his teeth. It was the thrill of completion alone that sustained him, and while lofty goals often proved elusive, the dishes did not.
In a sense, his cleanliness was the one thing in the whole world he had complete control over. Impulse and deranged fantasy had almost completely taken over - but he still had good fingernails. It was utter hypocrisy like this that would come to define Winston and his left from center philosophies. You would never guess that he was homeless or often living in shoddy, run down, roach infested motels. But one thing was for certain. He always left them better than he found them, and he doted on this quality.
One room over, completely unaware of anything that was going on in room 215, of the double-barreled shotgun and it's eccentric, psychotic owner, Ms. Sophia Dominguez finished up the last of her chores, one of which was remembering to corner off the end of the toilet paper, an act she despised roundly never mind its simplicity. She thought it "utterly unnecessary, well, when you consider what someone is very soon going to do with that there paper."
After pulling the shower curtain just so, she began gathering up her supplies and transporting them to her work cart, which remained just outside the door, signaling to management precisely what room she was in.
When she was satisfied that she had gathered everything, she turned out the bathroom light, stopped only for a moment to primp her hair in the mirror, and proceeded down the cat walk, 8 or 10 steps, toward room 215, toward Winston Walcott, his shotgun and his ghostly, vacant eyes. Eyes that might give even the most hardened criminal goose bumps, the spring shower shivers.
2)
Bobby Ruck blushed a deep beat-violet, something he'd inherited from his father, as he clasped his hands around Evelyn’s waste. They were both dressed in the finest clothes they owned: Bobby, a suit that had been given to him by his father, the same person, in fact, that had passed down such a radiant hue in Bobby's cheeks when he was embarrassed - or in this case smitten. For surely it was the latter, as Evelyn was, by all account, the only girl he'd ever had an eye for, and here she was, cutting a perfect figure in her favorite satin dress, one her mother had hemmed for her through the better part of a year. The result wasn't short of breathtaking, especially on Evelyn, and Mrs. Temple silently reveled in each picture she snapped, for each bore two-fold things she had taken great pains in bringing into this world.
Bobby and Evelyn were heading that night to the Fairbanks High school Formal, very much a prom in the general sense, an event that held great significance for them especially. Soon they would be heading off to college, the same, as they had both been accepted that previous December. Evelyn was especially nervous, counting down each day with the up most anticipation. She was beautiful by all accounts: elegant, classy, sophisticated, seemingly aristocratic, dainty but never snobby, articulate but never condescending. She was the type of person that made you feel good about yourself. Her hair was a beautiful sun-bleached blonde, the kind that "some girl’s plain dislike you for," she was often quoted as saying to Bobby.
She was well learned on many instruments, but felt most at home on the piano, her slender fingers dancing effortlessly down the ivory keys, coaxing out the most beautiful melodies you were ever likely to hear in person. She had won Bobby over that way; one of the first times he had visited her family's cottage near eastern Idaho. He was taken aback by this seemingly childlike girl producing such a grown-up, ranged concerto. She sang and played and Bobby blushed his best beat-violet - for he had been certain when he arrived that it would be him that did the wooing. Never the less, he reluctantly resigned his role and was obliged to let Evelyn court him – an act she succeeded wholly upon. Within weeks of that meeting they would be deemed the sweethearts of Fairbanks by the local gossip hounds.
Evelyn’s piano teacher, Mr. Douglass, thought Evelyn one of the most promising young pianists in all of Idaho. What's more, he considered her a friend.
"Evelyn was the type of person you could always count on. I remember one time; I broke down plumb middle-a-nowhere, the pitch of night, maybe 2 a.m. I walked about 3 miles to a filling station, it wasn't open but they had a pay phone out front. Evelyn’s the first name that popped into my head. I hardly had the heart to call, could you imagine? Middle of the night like that? Don't reckon anyone else 'a done it, even answered, I mean. But Evelyn was different. Answered on the first ring - it's just how she was. Give you the coat right off her back in a snow storm, no lie."
Evelyn eventually reached the bottom of the stairs, smiled deeply, then curtsied, as if to an invisible audience, and ushered Bobby toward her. Just then, Mrs. Temple snapped her final pre-formal picture.
A picture that still hangs, to this very day, above the entry way of Mr. Douglass' kitchen.
3)
Mr. Walcott began walking, suit case in hand, up i-80 toward Colorado. He had decided, after much internal debate, that he would head North, as he was tired of the smothering great plains, the seemingly never ending intermittent corn and wheat harvests, the sweltering heat, the smoldering concrete, humidity that chokes you like a caustic cloud of chlorine.
Yes, he would head north, and breathe easy mountain air for the first time into his lungs. How he longed for that chilling relief. Instead, he was faced with an endless freeway, a road that very well stretched into perpetuity, and no car to boot. So he resolved to steal one at the next rest stop, and in doing so, seal the fate of some unlucky soul along the way. He was tired of thumbing it, couldn't take it anymore, for it seemed Texas might truly never end if he kept that up.
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`NG
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
HOW THE FUCK DID YOU TYPE THAT SO FAST
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
4) If you suspect cheating, please spectate and record a demo.`NG wrote:HOW THE FUCK DID YOU TYPE THAT SO FAST
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kellen_rust
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
speedy fingers. guess what else they're good for?!
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
Piano?kellen_rust wrote:speedy fingers. guess what else they're good for?!
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
OH I'm sorry, where are all the videos of you out-training me??
Wait, too busy cutting yourself and crying at arcade fire shows.
Wait, too busy cutting yourself and crying at arcade fire shows.
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
Arcade Fire emo? Lulz were had.Sears wrote:OH I'm sorry, where are all the videos of you out-training me??
Wait, too busy cutting yourself and crying at arcade fire shows.
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
What's it like being as giant a tool as you are?
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kellen_rust
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
kirk who do you play for? let me join your team1!!
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
http://www.tpgleague.org/dod6/team/1327/
They are terrible, probably won't win another all season...
They are terrible, probably won't win another all season...
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
Sears wrote:What's it like being as giant a tool as you are?
WHY YOU WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH A GIANT TOOL, BRO?
I play for the Winnfield Family Gaming Faction. We're online as fuck, and I feel your exquisite LAN experience would hurt our reputation as being a team that is online as fuck. That being said, you should add me on Steam and we can talk :}kellen_rust wrote:kirk who do you play for? let me join your team1!!
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
I thought we were just playing around bro. Like, playful banter before we start servicing each other anally...
... my bad...
... my bad...
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
Playful banter before playful anal?Sears wrote:I thought we were just playing around bro. Like, playful banter before we start servicing each other anally...
... my bad...
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
Isn't that how it typically goes?
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
I don't have the vast anal experience that you do, Sears. In fact, no one has that kind of experience except for you.Sears wrote:Isn't that how it typically goes?
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
What are you, an evangelical christian prude too?
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kirk
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
I feel like I WOULD have more experience if I were...You know they're all repressed.Sears wrote:What are you, an evangelical christian prude too?
Mirin' whaleshoe? Yeah u mirin'.
Re: kellen wants a dod team
Some bitter people on here jealous of the winnfield paratrooper brigade. Why dese shitties hating?
Oh and something something about sears having back acne and a small penis bc I heard he's meathead.
Hi mg.
Oh and something something about sears having back acne and a small penis bc I heard he's meathead.
Hi mg.
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Schmiggs
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
I discovered Mr. Rust when he played under the name ghost|5.o|
He was like 12 or 13 or something. Kid was amazing then.
<3
Drunk and going to bang my wife now.
Latez
He was like 12 or 13 or something. Kid was amazing then.
<3
Drunk and going to bang my wife now.
Latez
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
fixed.Schmiggs wrote:Kid blatantly cheated then.
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kellen_rust
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
i used to play with a 15 sensitivity. ahh, the good ol' days.
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`NG
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
http://www.tpgleague.org/dod6/team/1342/
We need more people so we can have a roster as big as jetty does.
We need more people so we can have a roster as big as jetty does.
Re: kellen wants a dod team
I facebook'd friend u bro, UR 2 BUFF REALLY. WHO ELSE WNATS TO BE FACEBOOK FRIENDS? I'm ALREADY FRIENDS WITH MOST THE PEOPLE ANYWAYS. CALL ME SOMETIMES BRO.
Seriously & Also, ghost|5.0| is amazing, and saw him in pub earlier, still good. Probably the best player already playing this game,
and that is over all the kids who NEVER stopped playing this game
unlike me, who took a 5 year hiatus then TPG rolling guys from the bench.
1911.org moderator & editor in chief
Seriously & Also, ghost|5.0| is amazing, and saw him in pub earlier, still good. Probably the best player already playing this game,
and that is over all the kids who NEVER stopped playing this game
unlike me, who took a 5 year hiatus then TPG rolling guys from the bench.
1911.org moderator & editor in chief
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Sears
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Re: kellen wants a dod team
I remember when we kicked ghost|5.o| out for cheating and being 12, and then he went on to become a DoD superstar...and I was like 