Clash of Clans Christmas Special

Editor’s note: Clash of Clans is popular with some of the Lunchsketballers, just as it is with the 2014 American League Champion Kansas City Royals. This article is otherwise entirely unrelated to Lunchsketball. For those who play the video game, Merry Christmas. Everybody else, hang in there – this is not going to become a full-time Clash of Clans blog.

State of the Village Address to the People of GMcFly32:

santaPeace to you this Christmas, my villagers! How I love each one of you. The eager smiles on the faces of the builders brings me joy. How proud I am of those bands of courageous archers, who with ever a watchful eye pace their towers as they survey the horizon on our behalf. What happiness it brings me to watch my harem of innumerable identical buxom wenches spend their days scurrying about the village grounds, applauding the plants, rocks and structures that delight them so. How effortlessly they leap, light as a feather, over the walls we’ve raised to deter the fiercest predators!

What sorrow to think that I should ever have had lead you astray. How it terrifies me to imagine ever bringing an unnecessary pain upon the least of you, who have trusted me so innocently!

“Hey Chief, come back! Your warriors need a leader!”, comes the distressed message from my village. Time and again, I’ve rushed back in response, thinking that I was coming to your aid.

I have been wrong. This morning, as I gazed out upon the splendorous tide of our majestic beach, I began to think. My thoughts are sometimes clearest when I am close to nature. The sound of the crashing waves, this endless, foaming, cycle of beauty, lead the mind to think in greater terms. I let those words sink in… “your warriors need a leader!” I thought about what it really means to be a leader and LEAD. My warriors need a LEADER.

And a leader is one who does first what he knows is best for his people. A leader makes decisions that can be painful. It can be the task of a leader to address his failings, to face his own weakness. A leader must do what is best for his people, and sometimes that means swallowing his pride. That means admitting a mistake.

I look upon my cherished land today, and lament a village that has grown weary. Wearied of fighting pointless battles for vengeance, elixir and gold. Wearied of mourning tombstones left scattered about the walls of distant cities. Tired of constructing defenses, ever insufficient to frustrate our enemies. Enemies of seemingly every race and creed, incomprehensible in number, and unrelenting in their cruelty, greed and blood-lust.

My people, I am tired of running. Tired of always looking to unlock a new warrior, build greater walls and larger coffers!

We offer them our gold and elixir, but no amount of treasures satisfies the enemy hoard; for that is the entire world beyond our bordering forests – a hoard of enemies, gleeful in our demise. They are fueled by pride, willing to burn down our Town Hall 6, civilians within it, for the mere sake of sport. It is our ruin they pursue.

Our defenses are upgraded to the max. A staggering fortune has been poured into these walls that surround us. Our resource collectors are a modern marvel. In just one day’s time, we mine 360,000 gold. Surely this is more than enough to sustain a dignified life for our people! And yet, from within our very walls, I hear this cry, that I am ever further convinced is a cry of a deranged and perverted people: “Let us go to war! Let us be a nation great in trophies! Let us amass wealth, to join the Champion league and cavort amongst the Leader Board!”

And there are those among us who promise that if we upgrade to Town Hall 7, we may there find a Hero King, and he shall be our salvation. I have heard this spoken of within our very own pink walls. Those who make their case for a Hero King do so with wile; they speak of his greatness, but neglect to reveal that he may only be summoned by Dark Elixir. What depravity, to meddle in the fell ways of Dark Elixir? What fruit can come from such witchcraft? I will tell you, for I have seen. I have seen him in foreign lands, as I have surveyed some accursed metropolis to measure the cost in blood for the spoils within, I have seen this “hero” king: He is a Barbarian.

In battles, I have seen him unmasked, standing idle and crossed-eyed whilst his village is trampled by invaders. A buffoon and a rascal is this Barbarian King. I have not spoken to you earlier of this, for at first I thought the hope he gave to your hearts a good thing, but the truth must be known. I have watched our allies, members of our clan, who have placed their trust in these wicked Heros. I question the judgement of these allies of ours. I worry for their souls, for I hear them speak flippantly of erecting an altar for this king of theirs to bask upon. This “hero” sleeps for hours on his “altar”, a fell thing purchased of Dark Elixir. These are not the ways of light. It has brought their villages no joy, and only darkness.

Well have I known many leaders of villages far greater than ours. They lament of how Town Hall 7 fails to satisfy them. They speak tirelessly of Town Hall 8. They tell me of adding this wizard tower, and upgrading that mortar, rabid greed ever in their eyes. I’ve seen such friends, once noble and sturdy men, transformed into pitiful creatures of envy and greed. What shame to see now that I have followed in their steps for so long. Far too long.

It ends today.

My people, there is not another upgrade that I can purchase for you at Level 6. We stand at a crossroads: purchase a Town Hall upgrade and continue to chase this elusive banner of worldly strength? Or set down our swords and our bows, and turn our minds to greater things. We have lived a baseless life and embraced foul ways for so long; but that does not mean it is too late to quit this path of folly.

No more shall we harvest nature’s splendor for the desperate hope of a handful of gems! Gems that buy us what? Destruction and death! Death in the name of trophies! Death to bring us esteem in the eyes of men? Death to climb the ranks of children with iPads and way too much time? What folly is this?

The sterile, manicured state of our yard repulses me. From now forward, let it be filled with stumps, bushes, mushrooms, and the splendor of mother nature unfettered!  How may the joy of resting in the shade of a giant 10,000 elixir tree ever be measured in gems?

The damage we caused by our violent ways is irreversible. How long shall we be scourged with invasions by exotic clans with hieroglyphic names? A steep debt of blood have we brought upon ourselves. For every Town Hall we have demolished, unprovoked, retribution seems exacted upon us ten-fold. Fierce is the justice of Supercell, and who am I to question it?

Nevertheless, I call you now to turn from this road of grief and suffering. May the consciences of our invaders be pricked by the witness of our peaceful village. May the contrast of our bursting gold mines to our humble Town Hall plant a seed of thought in those minds enslaved to violence. May our wild and un-manicured landscape be the gentle call of nature that reaches the hardened soul. May this village, our village, be transformed this Christmas, to a true symbol of peace and joy. Merry Christmas!


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