Über intently studied the sheaf of papers in his hand. He’d briefly acquired the ability to speedread and run through it, but found, as always, that absolutely nothing sank in when he tried that. He read the words, acquired zero meaning from them. At length he looked up from his position in his highly-comfortable gaming chair and across to his partner, who was frantically button mashing his way through a round of Tekken. “Leet, this plan is excellent.”
“Hah! Get wrecked nub!” Leet triumphantly threw the controller down and Über winced, bracing for the shatter. It didn’t come; must have been one of his specially reinforced gamepads. “And of course! Those losers on the internet saying we’re fools? I’ll make it foolproof!”
Über nodded slowly. “I do, however, see one problem. Several elements of the plan,” he pointed at multiple steps on the papers. “Expressly require three people.”
“What? No they don’t. One person to be on the ground, one person to collect fultons to bring to Mini Gear.”
“And one person to pilot Mini Gear.”
Leet blinked once. Twice. “Shit.”
“Yeah we kind of need you for that.”
Leet groaned, flopping out of his seat and onto the floor. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Hey!” Über leapt to his feet. “None of that! Who was it that ingeniously crafted the mecha?”
Über clapped a punch into his palm. “And who was it that successfully iterated its technology to be different from previous mechas?”
“And who was it that had the magnificent idea to install the fulton missile array in place of actual missiles!?” Über pumped his arms wildly.
“AND WHO WAS IT THAT INSTALLED THE ONBOARD COFFEE MACHINE!?” Über roared to the heavens.
“That was you.”
Über deflated slightly. “Oh. Right. So it was.”
Leet clambered to his feet. “Still, allowing for no caffeine cravings, it’s clear I have to pilot Mini Gear,” he inhaled sharply. “Über. We need a third. A Slippy to our Fox and Falco! A Raiden to our Snake and Big Boss! A Paine to our Rikku and Yuna!”
“Indeed,” Über stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The only question is, how do we uncover one who is both capable and willing to join our great cause? How do we find one of sufficient grit, guts and determination to pass our gaming gauntlet?”
The two of them locked eyes.
“To the internet!”
♦Topic: Über & Leet Want YOU!
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Connections
Über & Leet Productions (Original Poster) (Unverified Cape)
Posted on February 1, 2011:
That's right, adoring public, Über and Leet are HIRING.
Whether you're a cape looking to rack up their gamerscore or more of a clantag type who wants to settle in for the long haul, we're interested in seeing what you have to bring to the LAN party! The preferred candidate will have knowledge of our manifesto (available on Über&LeetGaming.com) and skills in at least one of the following:
Protectorate versus Rogues
World of Parahumans
Mario (except Hotel)
Legend of Zelda (any except CDI)
- For an exhaustive list please check our site.
On the job training will be provided in deficient areas. Courses in speed running, combos and glitch exploits available.
Apply by PM. To ensure we are only getting true gamers, please complete the following pattern in your response: Up, Up
Gamer girls accepted.
Serious applicants only.
The interview in progress was going great. Their candidate was a miscellaneous-looking man with a full face mask who'd introduced himself as Clerk, and he was crushing their tests. He'd already defeated Leet in a surprise Pong match, mained Armsmaster/Legend/Rime in PvR (meaning he was pro as hell) and had successfully muscle-memoried the Song of Time on request. Guy was money.
“All right, one final question," Über steepled his fingers. "Your personal favourite Atari game?”
Clerk leaned back, considering. “Well I didn’t play a lot of Atari but there was this one I remember from when I was a kid which I think was based off that one movie? E.T.? You know it?”
Über and Leet went deathly still. Then, as one, they pushed back their chairs.
“Thank you for your time,” Über said stiffly.
“We’ll be in touch.”
They filed out of the room, then bent double, making retching noises.
“What kind of monster is he!?” gasped Über.
“Just imagine if we hadn’t discovered that earlier! What a disgusting influence we could have invited into our hideout!”
“Um...I can still hear you…”
Applicant four had Über and Leet exchanging awkward glances between one another. He was dressed up to the nines, if the nines had been found in a dumpster, wearing a tuxedo with only one sleeve and dirt-encrusted dress pants. From what they'd gained from his application, Salvage was a very new cape and an out-of-towner. He had a voice like ground glass and skin which looked as if it'd been ground into glass.
He also knew next to nothing about gaming, which was a much greater issue. If Salvage hadn't managed a great round of Pacman (for an amateur), they might have cut the interview right there.
“So a newbie such as yourself may not know this, but ‘dress code formal’ means ‘come in costume’ for capes,” said Leet. “Thankfully, your secret identity is safe with—”
“I’m in costume,” rasped Salvage.
Leet and Über exchanged glances. “We can… see your face…” Leet spoke slowly, like he was talking to a young child.
“Yeah, but it’s not my face. Grabbed it on the way here.”
“WOW WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE TO MAKE TRACKS LEET!”
“We just arriv—”
“GOT TO GET TO THAT PIZZA PLACE BEFORE IT CLOSES!” Über started dragging Leet away by the collar, hauling him out of the room.
Salvage looked put out. “Oh, all right. Uh… you have my number!”
Über poked his head back in. “We’ll call you never!”
“Damn it all! How could the PRT have found us!?”
“No idea, Über,” said Leet, trying to pull off the chunk of containment foam stuck to his right arm and only succeeding in getting it all over his left hand. “There should have been no way of tracing where I sent that message from. I was behind twelve proxies.”
“It’s not as if we left instructions on how to locate us! The coordinates were concealed with three layers of obscure trivia!” Über moaned. He was currently sans half his costume; he'd had to quicklearn escape artistry to wiggle out of an Armsmaster containment device. He'd made it out. Most of his clothes had not.
“I suppose even the PRT have gamers among their number,” Leet shook his head sadly. “Such a shame they can’t see the truth of our cause.”
“I admit, they had me going for a while there. Excellent usage of Triforce metaphors.”
"Good thing we added the PvR question. Only the PRT would pick such a cheese comp as Myrddin/Chevalier/Battery."
"Battery rework when," said Über mournfully, echoing the refrain of many a PvR player.
"On to the next?"
"On to the next," agreed Über, and then shivered as a particularly chill gust of wind blew down the street. "But first, pants."
It was official. The recruitment drive was a failure of Action 52 proportions.
Über and Leet slumped dejectedly at a booth in their favoured dive bar slash internet cafe. (It was a weird niche). Printed out resumes and discarded notes lay scattered on the table around them. Not a single candidate worth a damn. Either they sucked at games, fell beneath their exacting standards, or some Superman 64 dumpster fire combo of both.
Leet picked up a sheet of paper. “What about the Tetris guy? He spun a mean T-block.”
“He also had no powers and thought we were novelty advertisers.”
Leet sighed heavily and dropped it. “Yeah. I know.”
“Perhaps we can rework the plan? If you incorporated the fulton launcher into a man-portable device—”
“Too similar to the net-blaster.”
Über slid even further down his chair. “Damn.”
A hand thumped down on the edge of the table. Both men jumped. A teenaged girl stood there, a scarf covering the lower half of her face, curly black hair pulled back into a bun.
Über recovered first. “Can I help you, young lady?”
“Down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start,” she recited.
They each straightened. Leet leaned forward. Earlier in their search, he may have tried to conceal his interest. “You saw our ad?”
The girl nodded, and then produced a stapled set of papers from her coat. “My stats.” She handed the sheets to Über.
He flicked through them. “Legendary Dungeoneerer in Ransack… competitive tier ladder ranking in PVR, two maxed-out toons in World of Parahumans…” He looked up, narrowing his eyes. “You expect me to believe you have all this at what, fourteen?”
“Sixteen. And my dad’s idea of babysitting was parking me in front of a console.”
“Ah,” Über nodded approvingly. “So your skills have been honed through exemplary parenting!”
The girl looked at him. “Sure, let’s call it that.”
Leet took the papers. “So you game. But do you have game? What can you do?”
She pulled back her left sleeve with some difficulty, revealing that her forearm was encased in a metal sheath, replete with multicoloured wiring. “I made this. Currently I’m working on a propulsion system for the bracer and improving the integration across the board,” she flexed her hand for emphasise, the meshwork covering her fingers giving freely to the motion. “Grip strength is up, manual dexterity requires work.”
Leet’s eyes had lit up. Über nudged him with an elbow. “Oh. Right. Decent effort.”
“I suppose we can offer you a trial,” Über added loftily. “What are we calling you? I was thinking—”
“Gauntlet,” she paused, then raised her left arm. “As in the bracer and as in, you know, throwing down the gauntlet? One vs one me at portcullis?” Über and Leet were giving her blank stares. She sighed heavily. “Also, it’s a game series.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?”
Gauntlet looked between the two of them, then offered her non-tinkered hand.
Über shook, then Leet.
“Welcome aboard. Now, are you familiar with the fulton recovery device?”