Fossile Collector

Just acquired a new gat, a smart parts epiphany that needs a little work. I've swapped some parts around to the angel (the black marker with the blue grip) Can't wait to try it out on the field. Apparently they aren't worth much but I got it for free so it's not a  big deal   if it takes 30 bucks to fix.

The silver one with the freak barrel is the epiphany
The blue one is a 2004 macdev cyborg that has a sweet board in it (virtue board) and it can spit 50 balls a second
and the black one is my angel,  Literally its called an angel. Its from 1998 and is one of the oldest speedball markers that are still in use. Solid manufacturing straight from England.

The angel's name is esmeralda
the Macdev cyborgs name is tokyo rose
the epiphany hasn't been with me long enough to have a  name lol.                          

Why don't I own this yet?

 

What the hell man? Look at this thing. Its a friggen bow that shoots paintballs! Imagine showing up to the field with one of these things. No one would  know what to do with it. Kids spitting ropes would be all "Whatever I shoot  50 balls per second" And the guy with the bow is like "I don't have to." and ends the conversation right there then hits  the field and completely destroys everyone  because  its stupid accurate and stupid quiet. No one would expect it.

heres a video of some guy shooting a target.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bef9-5e7EoI

Cheap night at the local field today. I feel like ripping some kids heads of.

My First comp Marker

Heres a picture I found on my hard drive of my first ever competition marker.

Its a 1998 Angel LED. The first angel ever on the market back when they had to be shipped in from England. I still use that drop forward with the spider on it for my Cyborg, that halo hopper got destroyed when i lent it to a friend of my brothers , the pipe kit is still kicking around somewhere too. Just thought I'd share this with y'all   

She was retired a while back, its more of a trophy now but its still spitting  ropes  like the old days 

Tourneys a commin'!

We've got a tournament in less than a month and I'm sad to say the team is less then unprepared. Its not that we suck at paintball because we're all pretty good...as individuals. As a team we lack communication, flow and some of the guys lack knowledge of field tactics and bunker names. Even basic bunker names like center 50,  back right 30 etc. etc. The tournament itself is a low level tournament which I'm thankfull for because its a great way to get onto the circuit but I wouldn't be surprised if we get there and the team is all high and mighty thinking its going to be cake but we end up getting  demolished. I guess it will be a real eye opener for us if we get our ass kicked by 40 year olds with cockers and pumps.

In other news, I picked up a empire magna hopper the other day its fucking sweet. it feeds at 50 Balls per second which is a rate of fire that isn't even achievable by a human without  ramping (dirty dirty dirty!)  The next thing I need is the RF communicator thing to put on my cyborg(my paintball gun) so every time I pull the trigger, it sends a RF signal to the magna telling it to spin and shove some balls into the gun eliminating chop all together.

It sucks that even though we're sponsored, I still have to buy all my own gear. They could at least send me some pods   or some hatersauce. but tourney entry+paint being paid for is pretty sweet                     

I shoot people. It's a sport, a challenge and a hobby.

"It happens on a random Monday, coming back from an event, or late on a sunday night, right before you get on the plane and you're about to be frisked for the third time. You're driving, you're flying, you're sitting in an airport seat with boys from the team. You're drinking stale coffee trying to stay awake. You're explaining the fat welt on the side of your neck to a confused stranger or a best friend. You're coming back to the other life, the one without paintball, where no one understands why you do it. You're tired, you're working off little sleep, and the question creeps up and you try to ignore it "Why do I do this? Why the travel, why the losses, the missed work, the missed school, hours of practice and the complaining girlfriend?" Because the lure of living a paintball life is just too potent, and the products of the road, the travel, are memories forever in trips and strange lands with stranger people. At tournaments, it feels like, for once, you actually get to live as loud as you want. It's worth the sacrifices, its worth all the bullshit, because if you work hard enough, a sunday will roll around, and you'll be in the huddle, screaming, with your hand in, one among ten, playing for the world title, and suddenly all those cliches that you ever heard make sense, and you, are defined. You say it to yourself, and it means everything "I am a paintball player, and this moment, right here, is my life."