This is no rant, this is no anthem, this is a tale about one man. A man strict, a man in love with control.
A general and puppeteer in profession.
Secretly he wishes he could let lose. In his dreams his puppets move on their own, still following his command but without him commanding.
Troops of his will.
He never knows what he has, until he does. Every year, at the beginning of the crusade, he is trying to learn what he has. Each battle a troop is set up differently.
In desperation he seemingly tries every combination.
His main focus: The unthinkable.
In search of ultimate roster knowledge, in his quest to find the ultimate spell, he knows no taboo. He is a true tinker. He is no mastermind. He isn't efficient.
In his quest to gain an edge to win the final war, he willingly loses early battles.
Never once does he rely on common sense.
He is lonely, a lonesome maverick. Nobody understands his t(h)inking.
Every year, with each iteration, the commoners shout, cry, rage, and try to make suggestions.
How dare you Rick, how dare you not listening to us, how dare you! The commoners shout.
It's futile he doesn't listen. He is one stubborn man.
Good old Rick tinkers. Rick will always tinker. He is a man after all. A seasoned veteran, yet still figuring it out.
He will never stop, it's in his essence. It's his strength and his weakness.
As a result of his process he knows his troops so well that he can make absurd mid battle adjustments in order to win when he thinks it matters most. It is his uncanny ability: He is prepared for the unthinkable. He has tried after all.
Rick wishes he was a wizard but he is a tinker.
His folk can't understand him, because they are relying on the obvious, they rely on common sense. The one thing Rick refuses to use until it truly matters.
He prepares for the final war.
It's Groundhog Day every year.
That's all folks.
A general and puppeteer in profession.
Secretly he wishes he could let lose. In his dreams his puppets move on their own, still following his command but without him commanding.
Troops of his will.
He never knows what he has, until he does. Every year, at the beginning of the crusade, he is trying to learn what he has. Each battle a troop is set up differently.
In desperation he seemingly tries every combination.
His main focus: The unthinkable.
In search of ultimate roster knowledge, in his quest to find the ultimate spell, he knows no taboo. He is a true tinker. He is no mastermind. He isn't efficient.
In his quest to gain an edge to win the final war, he willingly loses early battles.
Never once does he rely on common sense.
He is lonely, a lonesome maverick. Nobody understands his t(h)inking.
Every year, with each iteration, the commoners shout, cry, rage, and try to make suggestions.
How dare you Rick, how dare you not listening to us, how dare you! The commoners shout.
It's futile he doesn't listen. He is one stubborn man.
Good old Rick tinkers. Rick will always tinker. He is a man after all. A seasoned veteran, yet still figuring it out.
He will never stop, it's in his essence. It's his strength and his weakness.
As a result of his process he knows his troops so well that he can make absurd mid battle adjustments in order to win when he thinks it matters most. It is his uncanny ability: He is prepared for the unthinkable. He has tried after all.
Rick wishes he was a wizard but he is a tinker.
His folk can't understand him, because they are relying on the obvious, they rely on common sense. The one thing Rick refuses to use until it truly matters.
He prepares for the final war.
It's Groundhog Day every year.
That's all folks.