DarkBlizz

In the OP, do you think you could upload your original MODS folder just as an online backup?

There's an updated version of the AI in this thread as well. It's at 3.0 now.

http://darkblizz.org/Forum2/ai-scripts/ghost-ai-and-strategy-ai-updated/

Cmon, if there isn't a BGH for SC2 then the game just isn't complete

Quote from: jyim89 on April 02, 2010, 03:13:09 PM
Why are people putting their heart and soul into a comment asking for a beta key when the guy who posted this thread has no key to give out?  The poster is ASKING for a key and NOT giving it away.. -.-

Because everyone wants to play in probably the best game of this year by a country mile.

Having played in betas for several other games, I'm astounded at how good SC2 is. I've only got the offline BETA (where you play vs the AI) and it's so ridiculously solid as a game.

I've never seen anything like those graphics where you switch from high levels to low. Low graphics doesn't even look like a low-res version, it's like a completely different art director designed it.

Amazing.

It's like the original Starcraft man: Firebats destroy zerglings. The Hellion is a Firebat on wheels, basically.

Right at that moment where he keys his password in and logs into Battle.net the film is cut.

I'd say thats where he just joined a fake login and a real one, or he's just logged in normally and edited the logo in between to fool people.

Open beta would flood battle.net and crash it. They're trying to keep the invites at a reasonable level so they can properly test the servers so it can be working upon launch (unlike what DICE/EA did, where they didn't properly test the authentication servers and it all crashed the day the game hit shelves).

It'd be better if they could give the invites out to people who would stay active and really enjoy it rather than selling it, but from Blizz's perspective they have no way of being able to sort through the hundreds of thousands of fans.

So they just go with the main idea - most people will invite their friends - and just live with the rest of it.

I wonder if Blizzard know how many keys they've given out but haven't been redeemed. That'd be interesting to see.

This thread delivers.

Even if there's no key, the pictures were class. Enjoyed every one, thanks

It's the way all games have been going. Modern Warfare 2 can't be played offline (need to be in online mode on steam for it to work) and neither can Bad Company 2.

It sucks going to a local LAN or something, bringing the latest game and not being able to play it. I know it's all for the anti-piracy measures, but I'd just like to be able to play a game without all the rubbish restrictions.

Why am I being punished for playing a game as a legitimate consumer? -_-

Would a Google Wave invite be as valuable as a SC2 beta invite?

I guess it depends what kind of work you do, but for the geeky crowd wanting to waste their lives away for SC2 then google wave isn't going to do anything for them.

Good luck getting that key though.

You'd have to make sure you wall off properly, and maybe get a few more marines for protection.

When the AI attacks me he usually brings:

6-8 roaches/12-16 zerglings
or
12-16 marines/around 8 marauders
or
6 zealots and maybe a couple of stalkers

I find on something like Metaloplis you can just have like 4-6 marines and a couple of maruaders and an SCV hanging around to repair any buildings that cop flak and you'll be sweet.

Valkirie launcher was the best for me. I tried the SC2ALL one but that did something with the difficulty where the AI didn't expand.

I haven't tried Starlauncher, though.

The launcher's fantastic, but the Starcrack 7.0 cheats! I watched a replay back and it gets 10 free minerals every second.

You can beat it if you turtle up for a while, but it kind of sucks because I was hoping to practice cheese/rushes or some timed pushes. Pretty hard when the AI is sitting on thousands of minerals though.

CHAPTER SIX

Floating in orbit around Eris, The Private had been more relaxed and less bruised in his tour on SCV-134X9, but less satisfied. He wasn't able to contribute - the lead scientist had offered him a textbook and suggested several years of study when he'd offered to help - but he could at least continue his habit of quietly observing the minutia that surrounded the platform.

In essence, The Private felt more entwined with the scientists than he had with his fellow Marines back on Jupiter. Granted, the scientists weren't smashing his shins and solar plexus in with soap, but at least he could understand the motivation behind the research.

Science by its nature relied on observation, necessitating the constant study and recording of the unimportant. One change in a single particle could alter the relationship of every other particle with another, sometimes morphing and evolving the sample tissue into new strands of DNA. Or at least, that was the explanation the Junior Researcher offered - the rest sounded like mumbo jumbo.

Often days would go pass and The Private would barely notice. Sometimes it was Tuesday, and then it was Tuesday again, except time had passed and he'd been simply floating in and out of consciousness the whole time. He was meant to be part of the security detail for the science vessel - in fact, he was the only Marine on guard - but there'd been so little work to do that he'd often doze off or stare at the scientists while they worked, gazing into the microscopes or blinking blindly at the printouts of DNA sequences.

It was during one of his less lucid moments, when he'd only just woken up that the vessel seemed unusually quiet. Science vessels aren't exactly party ships, but the constant hum and whirr of the databank servers almost imitate the feeling of being at sea back on Earth; the constant feeling of being surrounded by something larger than yourself, massaging your thoughts gently as you go to sleep.

The Private felt uneasy - the servers were off, which only happened in case of power. Dressing quickly, The Private could hear the slow rumble of the emergency generator down the hallway, keeping the life support and lights running on a low dim. Running on a miniature singularity core wasn't unusual for a science vessel, but the complete lack of enthusiasm for any other living lifeform within warp radius made The Private double-back to his bed for his C-141.

Walking the few steps up the hallway to the next room, The Private opened the door to find the Junior Researcher sleeping peacefully. Scanning the room with his eyes, there was nothing out of place save for the scattered printouts and half-eaten cheese sandwich lying atop the nightstand next to the bed.

"Quick, quick, get up!" Shaking the Junior Researcher, The Private feared for his life, irrationally - the file servers were simply off and the power had cut out, neither all that unusual for a research vessel and both certainly not cause for alarming the fleet.

But in truth, The Private had never made a good Marine to begin with. If he'd been thinking rationally he wouldn't have joined the Marines in the first place, opting instead for a cushy job doing deliveries or some other reliable work back home in New Berlin.

Rolling over with a groan in his throat, the Junior Researcher opened his eyes slowly and groaned, "What ... sleep ... go away."

"Get up now! The servers are down, the emergency generator's on and it's too quiet."

"It's ... too ... quiet."

"And the servers are down."

Exhaling the rest of the air from his lungs, the Junior Researcher stumbled out of bed, pulling on the bathrobe from the hat stand across the room. Scientists weren't exactly known for their grace or style, and no server would notice the colour of the bathrobe operating the keys.

Stumbling down the hallway, the Junior Researcher mumbled something about sleep several times while The Private's eyes darted around the corridor rapidly. The rest of the staff should have been uploading the results from the weekly tests, but there was no chatter or even the quiet shuffling of feet across the galvanized iron that formed many of the walkways.

As they reached the door to the main research chambers, The Private and the Junior Researcher gasped in unison: the rest of the crew had been mutilated with their limbs severed. It wasn't murder - it was a slaughter.

Humans weren't responsible for this - humans didn't kill other humans this way. Simply being dead was good enough for most people. You didn't cut someone's limbs off unless you had a serious vengeance hard-on, or a bit of space rot in the brain.

Walking tentatively into the room, the Junior Researcher lurched as the stench of his former colleagues' cadavers reached his nose. The Private wasn't bothered by the smell, having spent six months at bootcamp in an environment The Captain designed to be "uncomfortable".

But the fear of battle still twinged in The Private, and his hands shook against the foregrip of his C-141. It was true that he'd once longed to be a small cog in the grand scheme, but he'd been so psychologically scarred and brutalized by his fellow soldiers that he had long given up the thought of being able to contribute.

As The Private rotated around the research chambers scanning for enemies, the Junior Researcher toiled frantically on the GUI pad looking at security footage.

"It's .... it's ... Zerg. I don't even ... know ... how-" the Junior Researcher stammered.

"WHERE?" The Private screamed.

"I don't know ... I'm bringing up the communications module-"

As the researcher frantically keyed in the codes to access the satellite, The Private began twitching uncontrollably. Rejected from the front lines for being too inept to be cannon fodder, here he was now defending a scientist from the Zerg, possibly the only person more vulnerable in battle than himself.

"YARHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

As the screams of the Zerglings bounced around the walls, The Private became confused in the darkness and responded with the only option left available to him: squeeze and breathe.

The percussive sound of the C-141 firing around the room caused the Zerglings to momentarily scatter, but they were joined with a second, unexpected sound: the sound of a bullet hitting soft flesh, followed by the dull thump of the Junior Researcher's head on the GUI pad.
".... Oh ... my god ...-"

In his fear, the ultimate terror, in his one moment of truth, The Private grasped what happened.

He had shot the Junior Researcher, killing him instantly. His mouth was left open, probably from sheer terror at the Zerglings; although as one saving grace, he would probably not suffer the painful tearing of flesh from bone, of limb from socket that was to come.

It was the last thought The Private had.

---

CHAPTER SEVEN

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

"Ah, Lieutenant. What news do you have for us?"

"General. We have a strange report coming out from one of the dwarf planets past Pluto, where a science vessel was in orbit researching and experimenting with the DNA sequencing on some Zerg samples. Apparently during one of the experiments, one of the scientists managed to accidentally activate a psionic beacon within one of the samples which attracted some nearby Zerg to the vessel."

"What is the status of the crew?"

"The crew was all killed and the vessel destroyed. It appears during the infiltration one of the crew was able to activate the self-destruct sequence, destroying all the Zerg and research data on board."

"That's fortunate. Are there any lasting implications from their findings?"

"No sir. It appears all lasting data went down with the vessel, so there's no risk of any hidden beacons from being activated again."

"That's good. What were the names of the personnel on board?"

"I've got my secretary to forward you the list of all the scientists on board, including the one Marine who was acting as the security detail. Apparently he was too incompetent to be on the front lines, so his commanding officer in bootcamp on Jupiter had him reassigned to the vessel."

"What do ya' know? Have him recommended for a posthumous Medal of Merit, and make sure the press get full details on the story, especially about that Marine. It'll be a good morale boost for the troops."

"Understood General."

THE END