Angband poetry competition! :D

[dzhang]

Chris Kousky started this in his screenshot label, so I'll submit our joint work to get the ball rolling:

"Woes of the Deep"

Ah, the woes of the deep,
where the learning curve is steep.
Where graveyards abound and uniques run amok,
where artifacts are plenty and !oLife are stock.
Where rockets fly and nether rains,
and treasures are fraught with adventurer blood stains.
Who will be the source of my death?
A tonberry, a magus, or a great wyrm's breath?
Passing are my character's gains,
The monster memory is all that remains.

[chris]

Combat Echizen is a fearsome foe
Firing deadly rockets, as you ought to know.
He'll blink and blink and blink some more.
Healing and Invulnerable! Gosh! What a bore!
You swing to hit but his AC's too high.
I hope you resist shards or surely you'll die!

The Destroyer marches with menacing glee
Better not rely on just telepathy!
With mana bolts and disintegration breath
He'll quickly lead you to the brink of death!
Don't let him get close as he's rather tough
and I doubt you can quaff just quite fast enough!

[d_m]

Elf, you are truly
the worst player race there is.
Great charisma, though.

How did I get here?
No light, no stairs, no nothing.
Ah yes, no selling.

In the unlit room
Life passes before the eyes
Novice paladins

Four thousand feet down
Even the mighty just use
Teleport Other

Reading *Remove Curse*
Confusion turns to horror:
Not wielding Calris

[HallucinationMushroom]

98 ales later,
I am not drunk

[Nick]

Here's my entry (and see the Funnies tab for some more from other people).

[chris]

Here's my entry (and see the Funnies tab for some more from other people).

That's odd, cause all I ever really want to do is get some CON! How did you know

[dzhang]

Oh my! Oh my! What's that I see?
A lovely weapon, showing ten D ten.
I wield it quickly, my heart full of glee,
"Gonna kill orcs till lords know when!"

A troll appears and I think to myself,
"Nah, it's not dangerous; it's color is green."
I swing and see "Your weapon cuts deep into yourself!"
And the familiar tombstone fills my screen.

And so ended the tale of Gwar, third of his name.
Done in by a "feature," a weapon that was a trap.
The fate of those who wield it are all the same;
Death Scythe is the name; the "treasure" that is crap!

[buzzkill]

Story... of a half orc, maybe?

Shelia. She's as ugly as hell.

Mushrooms?!? Where's my gravy baby?

E. My last action. Her death knell.

ESC. Hmmm, it's only 3 AM.

[nppangband]

I don't know if the original poem ("Casey At The Bat") is well known outside of the USA. It is quite famous here, but since it is about Baseball it is probably unheard of outside of our borders. Below is the the Angband adaptation....

“Morgoth and The @”

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the ringwraith nine that night;
The score stood seven-nil, with but two ringwraiths left to fight,
And then the Witch-king died at last, then Khamul did get canned,
A pall-like silence fell upon the demons of Angband.

A straggling few got up to fight in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the undead nest;
They thought, "If only Morgoth could but get a whack at that —
We would bet all our copper now, if Morgoth fights the @."

But Sauron preceded Morgoth, and fighting Gothmog needed,
And the former was a maia, while the latter undefeated;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Morgoth fighting with the @.

But Sauron dropped Boots of Fëanor, to the wonderment of all,
And Gothmog, the high captain, and his escorts all got mauled;
And when the smoke had lifted, and trolls saw the walls all seared,
There the @ still stood, and a magical staircase appeared.

Down to five thousand feet and then @ heard a mighty roar;
It rumbled through the dungeon, it rattled all the doors;
It echoed on the stairways and recoiled upon the traps,
For Morgoth, mighty Morgoth, was advancing on the @.

There was ease in Morgoth's manner as @ stepped into his place;
There was Grond in Morgoth’s right hand and scars on Morgoth’s face.
And when, responding to the howls,@ donned his leather cap,
Ancient dragons tensed and watched as Morgoth fought the @.

Ten thousand eyes were on him Morgoth cast a nether ball.
Five thousand tongues applauded as Grond made all the walls fall.
Then @ drank a *Healing* potion to help stem the tide,
Morgoth cast a brain smashing spell and summoned demons to his side.

And now two bolts of holy might came hurtling through the night,
And Morgoth stood a-watching as they struck between his eyes.
Close by the evil demons all got banished and fled
"Now you die by Grond," said Morgy. "You miss!" the RNG said.

From the dungeons, black and bloody, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the character!" screamed the balrogs of Angband;
And it's likely they'd get summoned if Morgoth raised his hand.

With a sneer of evil hatred his twisted visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the fight go on;
He moved next to the player, and again @’s bolts flew true;
And Morgy swung at him, the RNG declared "You miss! (x2)"

"Kill!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Kill!"
And one Brain Smashing from Morgoth and his opponent stood still.
Then @ quaffed *healing* potions, and his wounds went away,
And then they knew that Morgoth may not survive the day.

The sneer had left from Morgy's face, his teeth were clenched in hate;
He pounded with cruel violence on @’s artifact chest plate.
Then the player's crossbow shot, and seeker bolts scored *great* hits,
As nearby walls are shattered by the force of Morgy’s miss.

Oh, up there in the nearby town the sun is shining bright,
Idiots blubber somewhere, and leper’s hearts are light,
Singing, happy drunks all laugh, and street urchins shout;
But there is no joy in Angband — mighty Morgoth has died out.

[bio_hazard]

A few limericks...

There once was a bandit named Roach
who's defense was beyond reproach.
A broad shield did span
the arm 'neath his right hand,
in his left a gleaming main gauche.

There once was an elf from Nanticket
Who put his sword where'er he could stick it.
One day he died to a yeek,
who laughed through his beak
"Dear Elf, you forgot to equip it."

There once was a mageling named Mark
Who's training was merely a lark.
Through the dungeon he crept
Monsters laughed till they wept
"Your missile is merely a spark!"

There once was a dwarf named Roald
who hoarded all of his gold
His friends wondered why
no new gear did he buy.
"I'd rather be rich than old."

There once was a troll priest named Bess
At meals she was a terrible mess
She ate with her hands
Till a monk had a plan
Now her knife and fork were blessed.

[Nick]

I don't know if the original poem ("Casey At The Bat") is well known outside of the USA. It is quite famous here, but since it is about Baseball it is probably unheard of outside of our borders. Below is the the Angband adaptation....

Well enough to appreciate the awesomeness of the adaptation. Nice work, Jeff!

[Magnate]

Well enough to appreciate the awesomeness of the adaptation. Nice work, Jeff!

+1 - thanks Jeff.