Let's write something during networking

A little man went running westward down the path, his tiny feet made hollow noises against the plastic earth.

This wasn't a rare sight here. Day in and out, week on and off, miniature men skittered back and forth on artificial, well maintained terrain, fighting out battles and working together in ways real men only wished they could. They fought for valour, for honour, and for victory. The fate of the little plastic world hung in the balance - until the next day and the next battle. Unless this was a multiday campaign or something, then it might hang until the game is reset.

That's pretty much how you play with Army Men. You slap 'em down and shuffle them around, shoot and kick and jump and run (at a tiny plastic scale) and it all works out in the end. The good guys (you) win, and the bad guys (your friend Jimmy) lose, and the greatest tales of brotherly love, sacrifice, and heroism are played out in a child's mind. This is a great game. But it's not always just a game.

This tiny plastic man knew something. Something very, very big. What Rifleman Three knew could change the whole big outer (not plastic) world. And he was about to be killed.


---yeah that`s a good enough place to stop