When the battle starts, I rev up the band. I set the rhythm, and my voice is loud. The audience runs to me and falls down in ecstasy. The other tries to outplay me, but they will not hear him. That is the code of the 5's.
When the battle starts, I rev up the band. I set the rhythm, and my voice is loud. The audience runs to me and falls down in ecstasy. The other tries to outplay me, but they will not hear him. That is the code of heavies.
I am selected to bring uncertainty and chaos against them. It is my gift, and they will delight in it. The other’s gift is foul, and I am selected to take it away, as he would take mine away. Whatever he takes, I give back twicefold. That is the code of pyros.
I spit with an immense amount of power. My aim is true, and my range is long, and when I hit you, it will not wash out of your clothes or your eyes. The other tries to spit in my eye, and I in his. Professional discourtesy is the name of the game. That is the code of snipers.
I am alone with my creation, and it is good. The team moves forward and leaves me, but I am fine. I can trust in the whirring and clanking. Teammates will lie. Teammates will die and leave. Machines will always yield to the wrench. My other is alone with his machines, and he will suffer for it. Eventually. That is the way of engineers.
My aim is not steady, and it is never true. I destroy men, and it’s the right thing to do, because they pay me in bottles and let me go home. They always pay better when I don’t ask questions. The other cannot see me, and I cannot see him, but I know he is there and I know what he’s done. Only one of us goes home. That is the code of demomen.
I wake up screaming, and the world screams with me. My world is explosions and gunshots and I am dead and reborn in it constantly. My other is the enemy, though his flag is my flag. He is screaming, but I pretend I do not hear him. That is the way of soldiers.
I rule over life and death. I write the schedules and write the pardons and ready the firing squads. I am God and Chancellor on this field, and the other is a false God. My schedule will hold. My firing squads will hold. He will die and I will stand alone. That is the way of medics.
I am running and I am running and I will not stop running because if I stop running they will kill me but they cannot catch me if I stop running. I don’t need to stop running and they will never catch me because of it and I laugh and taunt them for their slowness. My other runs with me and he is exactly as fast, and we share the same world for the few moments before I kill him. That is the code of scouts.
I am alone with friends. Soon, I will be alone with enemies. When they least suspect it, I will destroy their trust, and I will be alone again. The Engineer is happier than I am in his loneliness. He will suffer for this. My other suffers also. I will pretend he is a friend if he pretends I am a friend. That is the code of spies.
When the battle starts, I rev up the band. I set the rhythm, and my voice is loud. The audience runs to me and falls down in ecstasy. The other tries to outplay me, but they will not hear him. That is the code of heavies.
I am selected to bring uncertainty and chaos against them. It is my gift, and they will delight in it. The other’s gift is foul, and I am selected to take it away, as he would take mine away. Whatever he takes, I give back twicefold. That is the code of pyros.
I spit with an immense amount of power. My aim is true, and my range is long, and when I hit you, it will not wash out of your clothes or your eyes. The other tries to spit in my eye, and I in his. Professional discourtesy is the name of the game. That is the code of snipers.
I am alone with my creation, and it is good. The team moves forward and leaves me, but I am fine. I can trust in the whirring and clanking. Teammates will lie. Teammates will die and leave. Machines will always yield to the wrench. My other is alone with his machines, and he will suffer for it. Eventually. That is the way of engineers.
My aim is not steady, and it is never true. I destroy men, and it’s the right thing to do, because they pay me in bottles and let me go home. They always pay better when I don’t ask questions. The other cannot see me, and I cannot see him, but I know he is there and I know what he’s done. Only one of us goes home. That is the code of demomen.
I wake up screaming, and the world screams with me. My world is explosions and gunshots and I am dead and reborn in it constantly. My other is the enemy, though his flag is my flag. He is screaming, but I pretend I do not hear him. That is the way of soldiers.
I rule over life and death. I write the schedules and write the pardons and ready the firing squads. I am God and Chancellor on this field, and the other is a false God. My schedule will hold. My firing squads will hold. He will die and I will stand alone. That is the way of medics.
I am running and I am running and I will not stop running because if I stop running they will kill me but they cannot catch me if I stop running. I don’t need to stop running and they will never catch me because of it and I laugh and taunt them for their slowness. My other runs with me and he is exactly as fast, and we share the same world for the few moments before I kill him. That is the code of scouts.
I am alone with friends. Soon, I will be alone with enemies. When they least suspect it, I will destroy their trust, and I will be alone again. The Engineer is happier than I am in his loneliness. He will suffer for this. My other suffers also. I will pretend he is a friend if he pretends I am a friend. That is the code of spies.
I mean, Clyde Cash had to know Made of Meat had a mental breakdown.
And he made an internet video of her anyway, because troping means you forsake your right to not get harassed by youtube losers while being mentally ill.
It's hard to say this without sounding like an embittered ex-troper, but This Troper was really a shitty comedy series.
The camera guy had his moments. But yeah, the lead was kind of blocky and hard to watch.
The depiction of the administration is appropriately Orwellian though.
Oh, wait, I thought you meant the video series that TvTropes actually made. Sorry.
@Glenn: Thank you, thank you, my beloved audience. Seriously, I think it's brilliant, and I'm glad someone else does.
There are two references in this. Well, two non-religious references. Yarrunpoints to whoever gets the second. And Yarrunpoints to Mojave, because he'll probably get the first before anyone else does.
Yeah, This Troper was not good. While I can understand making a video series with the intent of pissing people off, the voice acting was bad and he definitely picked some iffy targets (going after a teenage girl with actual, life-threatening depression issues is not cool).
I guess the biggest problem with EC would be that Tom and Dana are too...yelly. Like late-age Linkara. Too annoyed with their own business for us to find them entertaining. Too harsh to really sympathize with them. So, we turn to camera guy, whose name I have forgotten yet again, who's just a little bit too ditzy to be properly likable.
I have just been informed that the recent chain of people claiming to "kinda like" Echo Chamber was not actually a prank, and neither was the recent chain of people claiming to not like This Troper.
Comments
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
When the battle starts, I rev up the band. I set the rhythm, and my voice is loud. The audience runs to me and falls down in ecstasy. The other tries to outplay me, but they will not hear him. That is the code of heavies.
I am #3, the Pyro.
I am selected to bring uncertainty and chaos against them. It is my gift, and they will delight in it. The other’s gift is foul, and I am selected to take it away, as he would take mine away. Whatever he takes, I give back twicefold. That is the code of pyros.
I am #8, the Sniper.
I spit with an immense amount of power. My aim is true, and my range is long, and when I hit you, it will not wash out of your clothes or your eyes. The other tries to spit in my eye, and I in his. Professional discourtesy is the name of the game. That is the code of snipers.
I am #6, the Engineer.
I am alone with my creation, and it is good. The team moves forward and leaves me, but I am fine. I can trust in the whirring and clanking. Teammates will lie. Teammates will die and leave. Machines will always yield to the wrench. My other is alone with his machines, and he will suffer for it. Eventually. That is the way of engineers.
I am #4, the Demoman.
My aim is not steady, and it is never true. I destroy men, and it’s the right thing to do, because they pay me in bottles and let me go home. They always pay better when I don’t ask questions. The other cannot see me, and I cannot see him, but I know he is there and I know what he’s done. Only one of us goes home. That is the code of demomen.
I am #2, the Soldier.
I wake up screaming, and the world screams with me. My world is explosions and gunshots and I am dead and reborn in it constantly. My other is the enemy, though his flag is my flag. He is screaming, but I pretend I do not hear him. That is the way of soldiers.
I am #7, the Medic.
I rule over life and death. I write the schedules and write the pardons and ready the firing squads. I am God and Chancellor on this field, and the other is a false God. My schedule will hold. My firing squads will hold. He will die and I will stand alone. That is the way of medics.
I am #1, the Scout.
I am running and I am running and I will not stop running because if I stop running they will kill me but they cannot catch me if I stop running. I don’t need to stop running and they will never catch me because of it and I laugh and taunt them for their slowness. My other runs with me and he is exactly as fast, and we share the same world for the few moments before I kill him. That is the code of scouts.
I am #9, the Spy.
I am alone with friends. Soon, I will be alone with enemies. When they least suspect it, I will destroy their trust, and I will be alone again. The Engineer is happier than I am in his loneliness. He will suffer for this. My other suffers also. I will pretend he is a friend if he pretends I am a friend. That is the code of spies.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
The camera guy had his moments. But yeah, the lead was kind of blocky and hard to watch.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Also, what is ClydeGoggs up to now?
no turning back
atomic clock
the skies turn black
Thanks, guys. It means a lot to me.
Not that it matters much, but it's at least a step up from This Troper.